Tethered
by zalrb
Summary: Stefan has been missing for the entire summer and Elena takes it upon herself to discover his whereabouts, working with Damon and the others to find him. During this frantic search, it's discovered that the bond between Elena and Stefan is deeper than even romance, allowing Stefan to call out to her for help, allowing Elena to feel his call. An alternate take on TVD 5x01 to 5x03.
1. Hello Are You There?

_"I don't know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals."_

 _— Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper_

It was the middle of the night and the sky was a dark, blank canvas; there was no moon, no stars to cast the town below in silvery light. Stefan's room was pitch black and silent except for the rustle of sheets as Elena tossed in bed. She had a lot of energy; too much energy and it was churning beneath her skin, working her muscles, hindering her from relaxing into sleep. She turned on her side for the fifth time and watched as Stefan slept on his back, completely still. For a moment Elena allowed herself to gaze at his profile, his chiselled jaw and straight nose and eyelashes so long it sometimes made her envious. He had the features of a sculpture, a true Adonis.

"You're staring again," he said, keeping his eyes closed.

"I can't sleep."

"Elena…"

"You didn't change the mattress?"

"It's the same mattress as last night and the night before and the night before that."

"What about the sheets are they new?"

"No," said Stefan. "Now go to sleep."

Elena bit her lip and kept looking at him.

"You're still staring," said Stefan.

"Are you _sure_ this isn't a new mattress?"

"Why would I lie about this?"

"So you can shut me up so I can go to bed."

"But you _aren't_ going to bed," said Stefan.

"I can't sleep."

"Elena—"

"Well what about the room is there something different about the room? Because—"

Stefan sighed and snapped open his eyes, turning his head so that he was looking directly at Elena. She smiled sheepishly at him. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Yeah and now you're going to pay the price."

Elena started to protest but Stefan rolled over so that he was on top of her and her words turned into screams of laughter as Stefan kneeled between her legs and tickled her.

"Stefan, _Stefan_ , please stop! Please!"

She couldn't breathe from all the laughing, tears were in her eyes, her stomach began to ache and she tried to push Stefan's hands away as she writhed uncontrollably on the bed, her legs flailing, a screech in her throat.

"STEFAN!"

He growled and tickled harder, grinning as Elena tried in vain to fight back. He lessened the pressure as he shifted his weight to get more comfortable but Elena saw the opportunity and took it. She lifted her head and pressed her lips squarely against his, reaching up to put her palm on the side of his face. Stefan pushed himself into the kiss so that Elena's head sank down into the pillow, his mouth opening hers with such enthusiasm that she couldn't help but giggle as she moved her hand to grip his neck. Quickly, Elena turned so that Stefan was the one lying flat on the bed and she was on top of him, gently tugging his lower lip with her teeth, eliciting a grumble deep in his chest. He slipped his hand under her tank top, skating his fingers up her bare back so that her entire body erupted into shivers. She kissed him harder, sucking his tongue as his hands glided from her back to her chest, his palms kneading her and massaging her, exploring her with reverence, with passion. Stefan broke away from the kiss, keeping Elena's face inches from his, so close that their eyelashes brushed each other each time they blinked, and he held her gaze as his trailed his fingers further down, a soft caress from her breasts to stomach … beneath the waistband of her pyjama shorts …past the lace of her underwear …

And then —

Elena moaned and Stefan gasped as he eased a finger into her, rubbing and circling, their smiling mouths hanging open and pressed against each other. Elena circled a hand around Stefan's moving wrist and subtly grinded against his movement, relishing the sound of the grumble in his throat, aroused by the feel of him stiff beneath her. When Elena quickened the pace of her gyrating hips, Stefan withdrew his finger, grinning as Elena's lustful frustration passed across her face, kissing her nose to keep it from exploding. Elena narrowed her eyes in playful challenge and moved away, kneeling upwards. She crossed her hands at the hem of her shirt and slid it off, letting it fall to the bedside. She started to lean back down to Stefan but he sat up before she could, his head raised toward her, his lips parted and his eyes raw and fixed and steady on her gaze; his stare had the contrary effect of inflaming her skin and calming her mind. He nibbled on her chin and then kissed her along her neck and shoulder, running the tip of his tongue down her throat, causing Elena to clasp the back of his head and graze her fingers through his hair, clenching the strands, sighing heavily as Stefan's mouth found her breasts. Abruptly, he held her tight around the waist and swivelled, making her squeal and she was pinned back down on the bed, laughing loudly. Stefan kissed her hard and fast and instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back, pressing him to her, urging him on as he rocked into her and Elena marvelled at how even with the flannel of her shorts and the cotton of his pants, she could feel the intensity of his hardness against her groin and it made her ache all over. With fumbling fingers, Elena untied the strings to Stefan's pyjama pants and then plunged her hand in, gripping his manhood, causing a groan full of need and desire to crack in Stefan's throat and resonate deep within her body. He pulled away from her, his eyebrows creased and Elena slid his pants down as her hands stroked his shaft, becoming more and more eager as his moans echoed in her ears and moistened her thighs. She felt his hands on her waist, tugging off her shorts and then suddenly, finally, wonderfully, he thrust into her and then —

 _Whoosh._

Elena woke up with a start, sitting upright in bed. She was slicked with sweat and her hair was sticking to her forehead and to her back. She was hot. Really hot. Quickly, she threw the covers off of her so that the cool air could soothe her skin. It was light outside. Painfully bright. Day. Or morning. She squinted her eyes and used her hand as a visor. Why was it day or morning? What was going on? Had she been dreaming? Elena looked around frantically. This was Stefan's room. She was in Stefan's bed. So then what was —? And then she saw the figure by the window. Saw who drew open the curtains.

And then she remembered.

Stefan was gone.

Stefan was —

"Jeremy and I decided it was time for you to get up." The figure moved away from the window to the middle of the room and revealed itself to be Matt. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "That was some dream you were having."

"It wasn't a dream, it was a memory," said Elena.

"Of you and Stefan?"

Elena nodded her head quickly "What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven."

"You shouldn't have let me sleep this late. Maryland is like a four hour drive from here." Elena started inching off of the bed but Matt moved to stop her and she sat back down on the mattress.

"You needed the sleep," said Matt. "You've been going all across the country nonstop all summer. You just got in from Nevada two days ago. Stefan wouldn't've wanted—"

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about him like he's dead," said Elena sharply. Matt raised his eyebrows at her town and then he lowered his eyes. Elena sighed.

"Matt, I'm sorry. I know you're just looking out for me. And I know I don't always thank you even though I really do appreciate you trying to make sure I'm OK," said Elena. "But I'm not going to be OK until I find him." She shook her head, her voice gravelly with emotion. "I have to find out where he is and why he's in so much pain."

"But how do you know he's in pain? And —" Matt licked his lips and took a deep breath. "And how do you know he isn't dead, Elena?"

"I feel him," she said simply. "I know that that doesn't really make sense but …" She looked around the room, casting around for the right words. "It's like a pit in my gut, a void that's been there since Stefan left — since he's gone missing and and it keeps getting bigger and, and, and stronger and I just _know_ it's because he's in trouble. Like my body is responding to his pain even from miles away. And then other times … it's like I can _feel_ him in the room, sense his presence or his … soul or, or something and it's reaching out to me and just when I think I can reach back it's gone." Her voice turned into a strangled whisper. "God, it's killing me." She looked at Matt directly in the eye. "He's alive."

She got up from the bed and walked across the room to Stefan's closet, wrenching open the door.

"And what makes you think that Maryland will be any different than Nevada?"

"The same reason why I thought Nevada would be different from California," said Elena. "Hope." She started taking out a towel and a robe. "I know it's a crappy lead, Matt. I know the other ones were crappy too but I can't sit around and do nothing.

"You sound exactly like how you did when he went off with Klaus," said Matt quietly.

"And he came back to us then, remember?" said Elena, slamming the closet door shut. "I can't give up now just like I couldn't give up then. Stefan doesn't bring that out in me. He … he makes me believe. And I have to believe that I'm getting closer to finding him."

Matt stared at her for a while and then let out a deep breath. "Well you can't drive to Maryland alone," he said. "I can co —"

"No," said Elena, cutting him off. "You need to stay here."

"Elena, you're _human_ again, you need back up."

"And I'll have it," said Elena. "But I can't let you —"

"Look, I'm not new to any of this. I've seen my fair share of danger just by living in Mystic Falls and being friends with you guys. I've _been_ in my fair share of danger."

"It's not about that," said Elena. "I mean it is but it's mostly … You're the glue. You know that right? You're the glue keeping all of us together, keeping us from falling apart, from drifting away from each other. Jeremy and Bonnie and Caroline and Tyler, they all need you here, they need you to hold down the fort."

"They need you too, you know."

"Like I need all of you," said Elena. "But I also need Stefan. And you guys do too. He's a part of us, Matt."

He blinked a couple of times. "Drive safe," he said. "And try to stay off bridges."

Elena returned his grin and watched as he loped out of the bedroom but as soon as he turned his back and closed the door, her small smile no longer pulled awkwardly at the corners of her mouth and her expression slid back into its true form; quietly agonized and full of painful longing.

An entire summer.

That was how long Stefan had been gone.

That was how long Elena had suffered the pit in her gut, the void in her stomach. For two months her body was telling her something was wrong, something needed her immediate attention. For two months, her body had been screaming Stefan's name. At first Elena convinced herself that it was her vampirism, that it had to be some kind of after-shock from switching her humanity back on. But then she'd actually become _human_ again, spelled into mortality by the witches, and the sick feeling within her lingered, _intensified_. She let herself feel it, embrace it, let herself listen to it.

And then she knew.

Knew it in her heart, in her bones, knew it like how she'd known that on her eighteenth birthday, Stefan had been on the other end of that voiceless phone call — he was in trouble, he was in pain and he was holding on. For her.

It wasn't a question. She had to find him. That was all she wanted. Him back to her. Him in her arms. The feel of his body next to hers, against hers, enclosing hers and … and …

Elena stilled. A chill had entered the room, prickling her arms, the nape of her neck, causing her back to arch and her shoulders to hunch — a movement across her skin …

…

… Stefan stood in front of Elena, watching as tears brimmed her eyes, eyes that were looking directly at him, directly _through_ him because he couldn't be seen, because he wasn't in her world. The desperate desire to hold her overtook his body with excruciating urgency, making his fingers tremor with the impulse to touch her, and he saw it on Elena's face too: the need to be comforted and satiated by what only he could give her — his touch. Her need was like a punch in his chest and Stefan tried to do it. To touch her.

He reached forward, stroking the side of her face, tortured by the inability to feel her skin beneath his fingertips yet solaced by the attempt, by the fact that he was in front of her at all. He traced his thumb along her jaw and slowly, she closed her eyes, almost like she was reacting to him and Stefan parted his lips, sighing heavily, teary-eyed and hopeful. She could feel it. She could feel him. Feel _something._ He knew it. Elena leaned into his palm, like it was a natural inclination, her face smoothing out into relief; her arm even jerked like she was about to put her hand on his like she'd done so many times before when he'd held her face like this. And then she opened her eyes, her pupils darting back and forth, her eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Stefan?"

The way she said his name, it made his lips tremble. He opened his mouth to respond and then —

It was like a hook behind his navel, dragging him backward at warp speed. And then he collided into something, a body, _his_ body, reanimating its parts like he brought himself back to life. He yelled out her name.

"Elena!"

No sound.

Bubbles.

Water.

He was choked by water. No air. No room. Immediately, Stefan started thrashing around, his fists crashing into something metal. The lock box. His lock box. His _tomb._ He was drowning. No, he couldn't be drowning. He couldn't accept it. He _wouldn't_ accept it. Stefan banged on the door, pummelled his fists into the indentations he'd managed to cave into the locker from his earlier attempts to escape. Breathe, his brain told him. Try and _breathe._ Holding your breath is killing you. Stefan tried to fight the impulse; he wanted to die. He wanted to see —

But it was instinct.

He took a deep breath and the water squeezed his windpipe; he tried to cough but only inhaled more water, stuffing his nose, crushing his throat. He was lightheaded but his temples throbbed, he couldn't _breathe_ , he couldn't escape. He just wanted out. Out! Out! OUT! He tried to crack his elbows against the side of his lock box but it was too narrow for him to bend his arms, he was confined to one position, he couldn't even turn over if he wanted to.

More water in the airway.

Everything constricted.

The pain was a particular kind of unbearable. And Stefan wanted to die. Not to stop the pain altogether but to trade this physical torment for the emotional anguish of the Other Side. When he died, he found himself in supernatural purgatory, sometimes for thirty seconds, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for even an entire hour. And there, on the Other Side, he could check in on Damon — the sight of his brother a pang to the chest and a comfort to the mind at the same time.

On the Other Side he could see Elena, relish the cruel pleasure of a near-touch, a half-conversation; he could hear her whisper his name, her voice rich with yearning and thick with sorrow, steady with hope. And that was what he wanted more than anything, that was what kept him fighting to wait, fighting to be rescued.

The sound of his name on her lips.


	2. Only If For A Night

_And I heard your voice  
As clear as day  
And you told me I should concentrate  
It was all so strange  
And so surreal  
That a ghost should be so practical  
Only if for a night_

 _– Florence & the Machine, Only If For A Night_

The pain was constant. It didn't come in waves. His body never gave up fighting, never tired into acceptance that he was in fact drowning, never allowed him to drift away into death. No, instead Stefan struggled to break free of the lock box, shaking his head frantically, coughing and inhaling at the same time, snorting in water that blocked his nostrils, gasping in water that flooded his airway. He banged his fists against the metal, cutting open his knuckles; his arms were cramped and sore, his legs were stiff from being unable to move them, his chest was heavy from the feeling like it was going to cave in or combust. Agony was his state of being. Agony was beginning to drive him mad; he could feel it. Feel his mind begin to splinter, fragment into oblivion. And he wanted to let it; he wanted to give up fighting so desperately so he could find some sort of peace in insanity. But every time he tried he instantly remembered when he'd yearned for the same defeat two years earlier. Every time he tried, he instantly heard _her_ voice echo in his head, reverberate through his chest:

 _You can fight it, you just have to want it bad enough._

 _Why? Because I love you?_

 _That's right, Stefan, because you love me. You'll fight because after everything we've been through, you owe me that!_

He couldn't. He couldn't stop waiting. He couldn't disappoint her like that, he couldn't disappoint _himself_ like that. He'd have to hold on.

More water.

Stefan felt like his entire body was on the verge of shattering and yet would never actually break; his throat was swollen and raw. He had to do something other than struggle. He had to do something other than drown. And even though it took everything he had in him, even though it felt like he was wringing his very brain painfully tight, Stefan squeezed his eyes shut and forced his mind into a different place, a different time.

The Salvatore Manor. His manor. His kitchen.

There was steam everywhere. The smell of garlic and onions. The sizzling of ground beef. The innocuous bubbling of boiling water. Copper pots. Copper frying pans. A wine bottle. A wine glass. Music in the background. Stefan was in front of the stove, moving quickly but gracefully, stirring here, seasoning there. He picked up a spoon and dipped it in the largest pot, moving it upward toward his mouth and then —

Darkness. He couldn't see. The feel of a palm against his eyes. He grinned.

"This is how accidents happen."

"C'mon, Stefan. I wouldn't let anything happen to this kitchen. Don't you trust me?"

"The words 'Elena Gilbert' and 'kitchen' don't exactly inspire confidence."

 _"Hey!"_

Elena moved her hand away from Stefan's eyes and he craned his neck back to see her head rested on his shoulder; his grin widened as she slipped her arms around his middle.

"What're you cooking anyway?" she said. "It smells incredible."

"Spaghetti Bolognese. A Salvatore Family recipe. I'm just worried that the sauce doesn't have enough garlic."

Elena put her hand on Stefan's and moved his wrist so that he guided the spoon into her mouth.

"Mm," she groaned as she sampled the sauce. "Tastes perfectly good to me."

"You could be lying."

Elena leaned forward and kissed Stefan hard on the mouth, her hand on the back of his head; she grinned at the surprised moan in his throat and pulled away.

"There. You tasted it. What do you think? Enough garlic?"

"You know," said Stefan. "I don't think I could tell just from that."

And Stefan kissed her again, causing Elena to giggle. He dropped the spoon onto the counter and put his hand on the side of her face, turning around completely to intensify their embrace. Elena stood on tiptoe, running her fingers through his hair and Stefan began guiding her to the counter on the wall opposite the oven so that her back bumped against it. He held her tightly, smiling at the taste of his sauce, the taste of her lips on his tongue.

 _Whoosh. Hiss. Sizzle._

Stefan broke away and looked behind him to the stove. The pot with the spaghetti was overflowing. He rushed back over and lifted it off the burner, draining the pasta in the strainer.

"You're distracting me. You can't be in the kitchen," he said.

"But I like watching you cook."

"Then you have to _watch._ Stay there."

"But I can't see from over here. Let me help."

"Remember the last time?"

"The fire extinguisher was _right there!_ Come on, I can do _something."_

Stefan turned his head to look at her, she looked back.

"Fine. Come here."

Elena grinned and skipped over to the counter by the stove.

"You can start on dessert. Work the dough with your hands."

Elena shifted over to the sink and rinsed her hands beneath the faucet, wiping them off on a tea towel, and then she dug her hands into the silver bowl in front of her, kneading the dough.

"Like this?"

Stefan glanced over to what she was doing then turned the heat down on all of the burners and moved from the stove to the counter. He stood behind Elena, his front pressed against her back and he put his hands in the bowl with hers, their fingers entwining as they both massaged the dough. After a while, Elena hooked some on her index finger then turned around slightly to smear it beneath Stefan's nose, giving him a moustache.

"There," she said, barely containing her laughter. "Much better. You look so much more sophisticated with a moustache."

Stefan stared seriously at her for a minute and then abruptly grabbed fistfuls of dough and slathered it in her hair.

"STEFAN!"  
Laughing, he used his speed to zoom away from her as Elena reached for the cutting board and hurtled diced onions and tomatoes and parsley at him by the handful. Quickly, she opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of Heinz and raced toward Stefan, squeezing all of the ketchup onto his head. Stefan retaliated by grabbing clumps of the spaghetti and throwing it at her. They continued to run around the kitchen, their bodies a blur of speed, chucking fruits at each other, spraying condiments on one another, dumping juices and sodas on each other until they were grimed and slicked with food. Breathless and exhilarated, Elena hid behind the breakfast counter, stooped low as Stefan stood in the kitchen.

"Surrender!" he said.

"Why should I have to surrender? You surrender!"

"I don't want to!"

"Neither do I!"

"OK how about no one surrenders. How about a truce?"

A pause.

"Agreed," said Stefan.

"So if I come out, that means you can't throw anything!"

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"How could you even ask that, you trust me, right?"

Elena pushed her mouth to the side. "OK I'm coming out!"

Before she could fully stand up, Stefan was at her side. They gazed at each other for a minute, smiling widely, and then Stefan lunged forward and kissed her. Elena threw her arms around his neck in response.

"Dinner's ruined," she said between kisses.

"That's why they invented pizza delivery," said Stefan.

Elena kissed him deeply then pulled back. "Feel so gross. I need a shower."

"Love it," said Stefan. He picked her up without warning, making her cry out in surprise. "Let's go."

Stefan felt his body move, felt it speed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. And yet he was stuck. Yet he, his presence, his mind, didn't go along with his body but stayed where it was —

It was like the earth turned on its axis. For a brief second everything was beyond space, beyond time, or maybe between it. Stefan felt weightless. Then cold. Then bodiless.

Suddenly, everything clicked back but he was no longer in the Salvatore Mansion; he was no longer in a living memory. He was in a … motel room? But he wasn't _really_ there, everything was grey and muted and removed. This was purgatory. This was death. He'd finally died. And that meant —

There was the sound of a key turning in a lock and Elena walked into the room, her cell phone between her ear and shoulder.

Everything within Stefan shifted. He was nervous yet relieved, calm but excited; like always, the sight of Elena anchored Stefan yet sent him into a free-fall and he moved to rush over to her, to hug her, to kiss her, but then re-remembered that he couldn't and suffered excruciating disappointment that devoured him; consumed him with sadness. He suffered through this cycle every time he died, every time he saw her because holding Elena had become more than a habit to Stefan, it'd become instinct, and instinct was something that could seldom ever be unlearned if at all.

"I didn't find anything here. What about you?" Elena walked further into the room, tossing the keys onto a tiny nightstand table. "Well, did you find anymore leads when you were there?"

Elena nearly brushed Stefan's shoulder as she paced the length of the room and Stefan took a deep breath in as she passed him, feeling only the tension of a near-touch that suffocated him with longing. His entire body screamed with it — longing, desire, screamed with desperation for her to know that he was there, for her to know how unbearable it was to not be able to feel her, for her to know how painful it was to see _her_ in pain and that if he could, he'd have cured her of that pain in an instant, cured her of her want for him.

"OK well I'll get the next flight out to South Carolina and then you and I — yes, I am coming, Damon. Are you giving up on looking for him?" Elena paused and then whirled around in frustration so that her back was facing Stefan. "So then why should I? You're not the only one entitled to finding him! You're not the only one who loves him!" She stood where she was, clenching her hair in her free hand. "How can you talk to me about school right now? You didn't care about me going to school when you thought I'd be spending the entire summer with y — of _course_ I want a regular college life but I won't be able to have one if Stefan isn't back!"

Stefan walked toward Elena, an expression of sheer anguish contorting his face. He stood directly behind her as he'd done in the kitchen all those months ago and slowly, he moved his hands across her shoulders, sliding them down her arms, wanting nothing more than to soothe her. Elena arched her back and quickly reached around with her free hand, spinning on the spot only to come face to face with nothing.

"But I felt …" she whispered. Then she shook her head and spoke into the phone. "Nothing, Damon. I'm just talking to myself. Look, it isn't about whether or not I trust you, it's about — Damon, I am not waiting on you to bring him back to me, if we're both looking there's a better chance of him being found, _this isn't up for discussion."_

It was cruel that Stefan could feel the panic in Elena's words, feel it so deeply that her anxiety trilled in his veins but he was unable to experience her body next to his, she was unable to know just how much he wanted to trail his thumb across her bottom lip. His eyes were red with unshed tears, his forehead creased. He had to do it. He had to try. Like every time he saw her.

Stefan reached forward and then —

That familiar hook behind his navel. No. _No._ This wasn't enough time! He'd barely been here five minutes! This wasn't fair. He wasn't ready! NO! NO! NO! Stefan looked around frantically, as if there were a door or a passage he could escape through so he wouldn't have to return, so he wouldn't have to leave. He couldn't go back!

"No!" he yelled as he felt himself lose grips, lose his hold on his purgatory. "NO! I'M NOT READY TO GO! _NO!"_

Elena flinched.

Elena flinched and looked frantically around the motel room. She'd heard it. Not an echo but almost. There were traces of it bouncing off the walls. And it felt like Stefan. She'd be afraid that she was going crazy if she wasn't so _sure_ , if she didn't know without a doubt what Stefan's presence felt like, if she didn't have such resolute hope, such stubborn faith that Stefan would hold on, that he would trust her to find him.

"Damon, I'll call you back."

She hung up the phone and dialled Bonnie's number immediately afterward. The other end picked up.

"Elena?"

"Bonnie? Hi. How are you? How's Jer? Is everyone OK?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Worried about you. Caroline wants me to let you know that registration is on Monday."

"Yeah, I know," said Elena. "Listen. I need to ask you a question. A magic question."

"Uh yeah. OK. Shoot."

"Is it possible for me and Stefan to be linked somehow? Like is it possible that when I say I feel him, I'm literally feeling his pain? Or that he's literally calling out to me and I can feel that call? That it's not just an expression?"

"Well, Grams did talk about certain connections," said Bonnie. "Like this is _old_ magic, natural magic, beyond spells and incantations and it's not love, it's bigger than that. It's life. When two people find life in each other, it's a bond that's able to transcend even space and time — it creates a sort of tether. It's like the definition of a rare occurrence but it can happen. I mean, that's what a soulmate is." Bonnie paused. "And if any two people could find that, I believe it'd be you and Stefan."

"I feel him, Bonnie," said Elena quietly. "I swear, sometimes I feel like he's in the room with me. Like he's trying to … it's like he's _touching_ me."

"Elena, that sounds way too specific," said Bonnie. "That sounds like … it sounds like me when I was on the Other Side. When I wanted to touch Jeremy. It sounds like Stefan's —"

"He's not dead, Bonnie," said Elena emphatically. "I'm telling you, I'm not being delusional, I know he isn't dead."

"Maybe not permanently," said Bonnie slowly, as if she were thinking her idea through as she said it. "Maybe he's dying over and over again because he's a vampire and … you two are tethered so his spirit goes wherever you go. He's literally trying to touch you and call out to you, like you said."

Elena held the phone to her ear, not speaking, as she contemplated the horror of that situation; the frantic need to find Stefan turning reckless in her.

"Elena…?"

"OK," said Elena. "OK, I have a plan. I need to pack, get ready for the drive home."

"Wait, you're leaving _now?"_

"Yes now. _Right_ now!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, what's the plan?"

"Well, it really boils down to this," said Elena as she opened her travel bag and started shoving her clothes in it. "I'm going to die."


	3. What's A Soulmate?

_"The beautiful thing about Elena is that she is so dialed into Stefan […]"She and Stefan particularly have this bond, and we later figure out in the mythology of the story why that is. But her having this feeling is genuine."_

 _— Ian Somerhalder, TV Guide_

"No you're not."

"Yes I am. Look, Jer —"

"You must be out of your mind."

"Matt, listen —"

"Well there has to be another way. What makes you think this will even work?"

"Caroline, I _told_ you."

Elena took a deep breath to keep her irritation from exploding into anger. She was back in Mystic Falls, at the Salvatore Manor, standing in front of the fireplace as Jeremy, Matt, Bonnie and Caroline sat on the couches in front of her. She had just finished explaining her plan for the third time.

"If Stefan really is dying over and over again and if I can meet him on the Other Side then maybe he can tell me where he is and I can go find him."

"There are too many 'if's' and 'maybes' in that sentence, Elena," said Jeremy.

"Why can't Bonnie just do a locator spell?" said Caroline.

"What, you think we haven't tried that?" snapped Elena. "Damon left a vial of his blood for us to use just for that. It isn't working. Bonnie can't get a read on anything."

"Which makes me think that wherever Stefan is, it's protected by magic," said Bonnie.

"How would you even get to the Other Side, you're not a vampire anymore," said Matt.

"But I'm still a doppelganger. Doppelgangers are supernatural, remember?"

Matt scowled.

"I wouldn't be gone for more than five minutes," said Elena. "Just enough time for Stefan to tell me where he is. I've been dead for longer than that and look, I'm still here."

"OK fine," said Caroline. "Let's say Stefan really is dying repeatedly and let's say you manage to get to the Other Side, how do you know for sure that the five minutes you're there will be the same five minutes _he's_ there?"

"Because they're tethered," said Bonnie. Everyone turned to look at her. "Elena shares a connection with Stefan that's unearthly. Cosmic even. It's why she's been sensing his pain all summer. It's how she just knows that he isn't dead. Not permanently anyway."

"What do you mean?" said Jeremy.

"I mean that they're soulmates. Literally."

Everyone continued to stare at her. "Soulmates?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "OK the soul? It's the essence of someone's humanity. It's what allows you to feel and to experience, what allows you to be inspired. And when two people connect the way Stefan and Elena have, it actually nourishes the soul in each person, which creates a bond between the two of them and allows them a sort of access into each other. It's why Stefan was able to fight off Klaus' compulsion for as long as he did; he could feel Elena in his soul even if he didn't realize it at the time. And it's why Stefan was able to help Elena when she turned her humanity back on, she trusted him implicitly. So I'm saying that with a bit of practice, Elena will know exactly when Stefan dies again."

Caroline raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said. "And I can't even get Tyler to return my calls."

"OK but soulmates?" said Matt. "I died and Elena turned her humanity back on, what does that make us?"

"Friends," said Bonnie simply. "The power, the bonds in friendship shouldn't be underestimated. She loves you. A lot. We all love each other, we all want to protect each other, but being tethered means feeling something for someone that's greater than even love. I'm saying that her and Stefan…" Bonnie looked at Elena. "Their souls call to each other. It's something that's both romantic and platonic yet at the same time beyond friendship and beyond romance. This is ancient magic. Elena will actually be able to feel Stefan whenever she wants to once she learns how to use it. She could pull this off."

"Thanks, Bonnie," said Elena, smiling slightly.

"Oh I still think that this is a completely insane plan," she said. "And that you shouldn't go through with it."

 _"What?"_

"Elena," said Bonnie, standing up and walking over to her. "You just became human again. The witches granted you mortality for a reason and I still don't know what it is. You have cheated consequences for five years now. This isn't the time to be asking for more favours."

 _"This is the only option there is!"_ said Elena, gesturing angrily. "I'm at my wit's end." She put her hand to her forehead and started rubbing her temple. "I don't know what else to do. I can keep looking for him, I can keep driving and flying all over the country and I will. I _will_ do that, but this is the best way for me to find him. And once I find him I can go forward with my life. That's what you guys want, right? For me to move forward?"

"Elena, we want Stefan back too," said Caroline quietly. "He doesn't only mean something to you. Each of us owes him something. We just don't want to lose you in the process of getting him back."

"But you guys _won't."_

"Why can't Damon be the one to do this?" said Bonnie. "You can sense when Stefan's about to die and Damon will be the one to actually die. He'll be able to meet Stefan on the Other Side as long as you're next to him because Stefan's spirit goes wherever you go."

"He's already tracking down a lead and I don't want to disrupt that," said Elena. "It's better if the two of us are using different methods."

"I'll do it. I have the Gilbert Ring," said Matt, standing up. "You and Caroline are both right, Stefan is a part of the group and I know he'd do the same thing if it were one of us. I haven't forgotten that he tried to help out Vicki."

"Matt, you've died too many times already too. The last time you were on the Other Side, it took you way too long to find your body and come back. I just have a feeling that this isn't the right time to be pushing our luck," said Bonnie. "And anyway, you'd forget everything Stefan told you the minute you got back."

Jeremy stood up now. "I'm still a hunter so if I—"

Bonnie shook her head. "Jeremy, you of all people —"

"Are you and I tethered?" said Jeremy, cutting her off. "Could you bring me back no matter what?"

"Jeremy…"

"Are we tethered?"

Bonnie stared at him, parting her lips and then she lowered her eyes. "You and I … we're entwined but never meeting."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter," said Elena suddenly. "It doesn't matter because you're not going to do it. I would do anything to get Stefan back. _Anything._ Except risk any of your lives. I can't do that. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for it and Stefan wouldn't be able to live with it."

"But I thought there was no risk, Elena," said Matt.

She glared at him. "Well anything involving magic has _some_ risk, that doesn't mean—"

"I'll do it," said Caroline. "I'll go to the Other Side."

"Caroline, didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Look, I've only truly died once. I think I'm allowed to push my luck a few more times. And Stefan has done nothing but be kind to me and help me and be there for me. I'm alive right now because of him. He's like my Yoda or my Obi Wan or something." She turned to Matt. "Did I use that reference right?"

Matt closed his eyes and nodded.

"Right, I can't just leave him to suffer. I'm going, Elena. Just … just be sure that he's there." Caroline looked at Bonnie. "So how does this work?"

Bonnie walked back to the couch and rooted around in her bag until she pulled out a glass vial full of red liquid.

"You have to drink this," she said.

Caroline stared at the vial, horrified. "Please don't tell me I have to drink Damon's blood."

"What? No. This is a potion. I haven't really done potions before this but you need to die right away and this will work faster than a spell."

"Wait, this is your first potion? Will it work?"

"Trust me, you'll be dead almost instantly," said Bonnie. "Then I'll say a spell to revive you. I've memorized it over the years because of how many times I've had to use it but I brought the grimoire just in case. You get five minutes, seven tops, or you'll be stuck there."

Caroline nodded her head, determined. Bonnie turned to Elena. "You'll have to tell her when to take the potion so be sure."

"OK how do I…?"

"Just meditate," said Bonnie. "Focus on the feeling. Don't doubt it or question it, embrace it and it will engulf you. Everyone else, stay quiet so she can concentrate."

Elena took a deep breath, sat down cross-legged, and closed her eyes. There was a pang in her chest that felt natural yet unfamiliar, as if it were a sensation that was a part of her but didn't belong to her completely, something she couldn't get rid of, something she didn't want to get rid of but something that wasn't of her own making. A part of her wanted to figure out why it was there, but she ignored the impulse and simply accepted its presence, digging into its nuances and shades, and then through that she felt it. Felt him.

"OK, I feel … pain. So much pain … like he's suffocating or, or, drowning …" Elena's voice thickened as tears wet her eyelashes. "He's fighting. Hard. He's … struggling … trying to reach out to me…" She inhaled again. "He wants … he wants to …"

Elena snapped her eyes open. "Caroline, drink it now!"

In one quick motion, Caroline drained the vial, tilting her head back. And then she collapsed.

Seconds later, Caroline propped herself up on her elbows. "Well I guess that was a dud, Bonnie," she said. "Bonnie?"

She was still in the Salvatore Manor, half-lying on the very spot she'd fallen down on, it was all the same as a few seconds ago, only it wasn't. Everything was grey, everything corporeal and physical felt distant, like an invisible barrier prevented them from feeling real; she couldn't feel anything except for isolation.

The Other Side.

She had to be on it.

The potion worked.

Which meant …

She didn't have much time.

Caroline stood up and started walking around the Salvatore Manor. "Stefan? Stefan! _Stefan!"_

"Caroline?"

She turned around and saw Stefan walk out from behind a corner. She ran toward him and hugged him, the impact making him stagger, and then he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're here," he said. "You're here — wait." Abruptly, he let go of her and grasped her shoulders, looking into her eyes, his expression severe and panicked. _"How_ are you here? What happened? Why are you dead?"

"No, it's not like that. Bonnie did a spell. Or made a potion. Look," said Caroline. "Elena and Damon have been looking for you. I don't have much time. Tell me where you are so we can find you."

Stefan blinked. "I…"

 _"Quickly,"_ said Caroline. "I have like four minutes left."

"Caroline, I don't know where I am. I was forced in a locker and then it was pushed into the quarry."

"So you really are drowning," said Caroline quietly.

At the look in Caroline's eyes, Stefan tilted his head sympathetically. He opened his mouth to say something, to comfort her but he didn't know what he could possibly say that could diminish the torment of drowning every day, nonstop, for what felt like years on end. "It's not that bad" sounded unbelievably stupid.

"Caroline…"

"You have to give me something," she said. "Something that can get us to you. Anything. Is the locker moving?"

Stefan closed his eyes, thinking. "It was at first, I remember hitting rocks. And then it sank."

"Were you moving for a long time?"

"Caroline, when you're being tortured, everything feels long."

She flinched at his words. "Please think. Elena is going crazy looking for you. We just want to find you but we need your help."

"OK uh…" Stefan sighed. "The current carried the lock box for a while and I think I passed under some kind of waterfall because there was hammering against the metal. And there may've been construction somewhere."

"Great, OK, I —" Caroline furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh no. I'm being brought back."

"No, don't be mad, you don't belong here."

"But neither do you!"

"Caroline." He hugged her again. "Thank you for coming here," he said.

"Just hold on, Stefan, OK?" said Caroline. "Elena and Damon … they're not giving up. We're going to find you."

"Caroline, tell them, tell them I—"

Breath! Life!

Caroline took a deep, wheezing breath as she sat upright on the carpet. Bonnie was already crouched beside her and Matt, Jeremy and Elena came rushing toward her. They all spoke at once.

"How are you?"

"Do you feel OK?"

"Need anything?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Caroline impatiently, standing up. "You were right, Elena. Stefan's drowning. He's in a lock box. It was pushed off the quarry. He thinks he passed through some kind of waterfall or something and he heard construction. That's all I managed to get, Elena, I'm sorry."

"No, it's, it's fine. It's more than what we had before," said Elena. "Thank you for doing this. And you, Bonnie, thank you so much for well, for being you."

"So what now?" said Jeremy.

"Now, we work with this. Caroline, can you call your mom and ask if there are any reports about sightings of a locker in a quarry or something like that. Bonnie, maybe we can try one more locator spell? Focus on rivers and lakes around Mystic Falls and nearby States just to be sure. I'm going to call Damon and let him know what we found out."

Elena took out her phone as Bonnie and Caroline left the living room to get started. Matt walked up to her.

"Well what about us?" he said.

Elena looked at them. "Um," she said. "I'm sure Bonnie and Caroline need help, you guys can see what they need."

Jeremy and Matt set off after Bonnie and Caroline, Matt turning in Caroline's direction, Jeremy turning in Bonnie's.

Twenty minutes later, everyone came back into the living room where Elena was still on the phone with Damon, Caroline almost running up to her.

"Damon, hold on," said Elena, moving the phone away from her ear. "Found something?"

"OK so, my mom pulled a few favours and got access into databases in a couple of other States and it turns out a construction worker in Savannah called in about a floating locker but then it disappeared like right in front of him, like an apparition."

"Savannah?" said Elena. "Damon, you're cl —" she paused. "OK." She hung up the phone and headed over to the couch, picking up her jacket. "I need to get to Savannah."

"What?" said Bonnie. "But I thought you said that you and Damon should be working separately but together because it was faster?"

"Yeah but a lead like this? It fits what Stefan told Caroline perfectly. This is it. This is what we've been looking for all summer. I have to go."

Caroline started. "But your clothes—"

"I have a travel bag ready to go in the car, it just seemed like a practical choice," said Elena. She picked up her car keys and then threw her arms around Caroline and Bonnie.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much. What you two did … it means the world to me." She looked at Matt and then tilted her head toward Jeremy. Matt nodded in understanding.

"I love you guys," she said.

And then she was off.

Bright. Warm. Air. Light. Real? Dream? Memory? Hallucination?

Stefan opened his eyes and immediately started gasping for breath. There was no water. There was no darkness. He was above ground. His lockbox was opened. His brother's face loomed before him.

"Stefan? You alive yet?"

He started to flail and jerk but Damon held him by the shoulders and lifted him out of the locker. "It's OK," he said. "It's OK. You're alive. This is real. Hey, _hey._ Stop being a pain in the ass and _listen."_

Damon held Stefan's head to still him and looked him in the eye. "You're out, OK? We got you out."

Stefan stared at him for a minute and then nodded.

"I should kill you for real for making me go all around the country. I went to Florida, Stefan. You know how much I _hate_ Florida?"

"Thank you, Damon. Really, I —"

"Whoa, whoa whoa," said Damon, raising his hands. "No heart to hearts. You've saved me a few times, I've saved you a few times, it's what we do, let's not make a big deal out of it."

"How did you get me out?"

"It's a _long_ story but I had to get a witch to de-spell the lockbox because whoever put you in here worked some serious juju on that thing. She was no Bonnie Bennett but she got the job done. Had to call in a favour with Klaus. He was super worried about you, little brother. If I didn't know any better I'd say he's half in love with you."

"Damon…"

"No, I mean it. I think Elena has cause to be jealous."

Stefan turned his head sharply toward Damon, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched. Damon nodded his head slowly.

"Ah yeah, now I've got your attention," he said. "C'mon, let's go home so you and Elena can look lovingly into each other's eyes or whatever it is that you two do when you're together. Let's go."

There was no one in the Salvatore Manor when Stefan arrived. The others told him Elena had set off straight for Savannah to be there when Damon went looking for him. Damon told him he'd left message after message on her phone, explaining that they were already on their way back to Mystic Falls and to do whatever she could to turn around and come back. They told him and he'd heard them but when he was confronted with the empty house, he was still swallowed whole by utter disappointment so devastatingly painful; devoured by a longing so agonizing he felt as choked as he did underwater.

He walked around the living room in an attempt to distract himself from an absence too profound to be ignored; he tried to reacquaint himself with his space, with being alive at all. He took everything in slowly; the fireplace, the wooden beams, the chandeliers. It felt strange being there, _really_ being there when he'd become so accustomed to being a phantom in his own home. It all felt so —

Tingles on the back of Stefan's neck made him turn around swiftly and he was rewarded with the sight of Elena standing beneath the living room archway atop the stairs.

For a moment, neither of them said anything and only stared at each other from across the room. Everything in Stefan stilled. He was rooted to the spot. Tearing his eyes away from Elena felt physically impossible. She was _there._ They both were. He was standing across from her. Alive. Right? He was _alive._ He'd already seen everyone else, touched everyone else; he could feel the air on his skin, the wooden floor beneath his feet — things he couldn't do on the Other Side. This was _real._ Wasn't it? But how could he be sure? This could all be a forgotten memory or a conjured hallucination; he could still be drowning; Elena the figment of a desperate man's imagination. The only thing real to Stefan anymore was pain and he was no longer suffering endless torment so how could any of this actually be _happening?_ He wanted it too much. Wanted _her_ too much. Wasn't she supposed to be in Savannah anyway? Stefan didn't try to move from where he stood, scared to be proven right, scared to learn that he in fact couldn't move and was trapped in a fantasy.

Elena sighed heavily, her teary eyes bright with excited relief, her forehead creased, her mouth in a half-smile.

"Stefan?"

He closed his eyes as she whispered his name and then started walking determinedly toward her as she ran down the steps toward him. They met in the middle of the living room and kissed without a word, Stefan's mouth opening hers with a ferocity that compelled Elena to grab a hold of his head, to grip his hair with her nails and push him deeper to her. Her lips were swollen from Stefan's fervour and eager for more of it as she kissed back with a savagery of her own; the savage need to claim him as hers.

Stefan grasped the sides of Elena's face, his tongue urgent against hers, his hands moving from her hair to her back to her hips; he crushed her against him, his fingers squeezing the curves and shallows of her body, itching to tear through the material of her shirt and experience the feel of her skin against his. He held her waist so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Yes, he was there. Elena moaned into his mouth, her hands clutching his shoulders. He felt it. He was alive. This was _real._ He kissed Elena's neck, finally allowing her air, and she clutched him, panting and breathless; he groaned, savouring the taste of her, and sucked the fleshy underside of her chin, making her breathing grow even shallower so that her chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

 _This was real. This was happening._

Elena slipped her hands beneath Stefan's shirt, flexing her palms over the hardness of his torso, skimming her thumbs over his nipples, making him gasp and groan at the same time. He raised his head to her and kissed her again, even more fervently than before, and he grabbed her beneath her behind and lifted her onto him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as her arms circled his neck. Stefan zoomed across the room, crashing Elena against a wall, his body pressed hard against hers, causing her to mewl into his mouth and dig her fingernails into his skin. It wasn't something he should've done — use his heightened speed; somewhere in the back of his mind, Stefan knew this. He could've hurt Elena given her renewed human condition. But it wasn't something he could help. He'd only been alive again for a few hours and so didn't have a grasp on his reflexes, on the urges that came natural to him and right now what came most naturally was the urge to meld with Elena as intimately as possible.

He couldn't control his want for her.

Stefan tried to break away, but the moment his hold on Elena loosened, she wrapped her legs around his waist more tightly, pressing her mouth against his with a passionate determination, recapturing him in their embrace, and Stefan couldn't help but allow himself to be ensnared. He grabbed Elena's wrists, breaking her grasp of his neck and he pinioned her hands above her head, against the wall behind them, entwining his fingers with hers; her nails squeezing his knuckles as he kissed the side of her face, tugging her earlobe with his teeth. Elena moaned loudly.

 _"Stefan."_

He grumbled deep in his chest. The way she said his name … it _did_ something to him — frenzied his blood, hardened his body, intensified his own need for her, his own need to be with her in every which way there possibly was. He pressed harder against her, pushing himself into her groin, making her gasp and the sound was like a whisper on his skin, inflaming his nerves. Stefan felt his baser nature surfacing: his gums itched, the veins beneath his eyes prickled, his desire for her, his love for her … it was starting to cross over to hunger.

He pulled away. "I can't," he whispered.

Elena ignored him and pressed her lips against his again; immediately Stefan put his hands on the side of her neck, kissing her deeply, fiercely. _No! I can't._ He pulled away again, taking several steps back.

"I mean it, Elena, I —" he had to catch his breath. "I can't do this."

Elena stayed slumped against the wall, also breathless, her skin flushed. "Why not?" She walked toward him. "Stefan, what's wrong?"

He shook his head.

"You can tell me anything," said Elena. "You know that."

"This, what we're doing, it's dangerous. _I'm_ dangerous right now," said Stefan. "I want this too much. I want …" He looked at Elena, his eyes raw and aroused. "I don't want to hurt you. I did that once, I am _never_ doing it again."

"This won't hurt me," she said, her voice heavy with longing. "You won't hurt me."

"You don't get it," said Stefan, his voice choked and strangled. "I can't be — this can't —" He started gesticulating, trying to find the right words; his body trembled with the intensity of what he couldn't articulate. "This won't be gentle. I've seen you every day and haven't been able to touch you or speak to you and now you're _here_ and I…" He swallowed hard. "I can't restrain myself. I won't be able to help myself with you, I —"

"Trust me, Stefan," said Elena, rushing toward him. "I know the feeling."

And she kissed him again, her hands on his face, his hands on hers. Neither of them moved for what felt like a while, each of them testing themselves to see if the simple act of kissing would be enough to satiate the violent necessity of being together. But then Elena shifted, an infinitesimal movement, and it immediately shifted everything else, intensifying their embrace so that Elena hastily rid Stefan of his sweater as he hooked his nails into the back of her own top and tore apart the material, his fingertips brushing her bare back as he ripped her shirt in half. Quickly, he bent down and nipped her chest frantically, cupping her breasts; he enclosed one of her nipples in his mouth and Elena moaned loud and long, arching her back. She unbuckled his belt, her hands trembling with keen readiness, slipping her hands into his jeans, edging them downward. Stefan grabbed Elena, roughly holding her to him, kissing her so that she bit and sucked on his bottom lip, and then he moved forward so that she fell onto the carpet, him atop her. Once on the floor, Stefan curved his fingers into the waistband of both her shorts and underwear and in one fluid motion slid them both off her legs so that she was lying completely naked in front of him. He spread her thighs with his knee, pulling down his own underwear, and then he thrust into her without preamble, filling her instantly, sheathing himself within her in only one motion, causing her to mewl loudly as a low groan cracked in his throat.

"I love you," said Stefan, plunging himself even further into Elena. _"God,_ I love you."

Elena gripped his arms and Stefan pressed her down, gyrating his hips, thrusting into her so that she felt each of his strokes deep in her belly, striking her with a sharp pleasure that nearly blinded her; it overwhelmed her, overtook her, expanding her, extending her — she felt like she'd come apart from the sheer intensity of it all.

"Stefan," she whispered. "Stefan, _please…"_

She didn't even know what she was begging for; his rhythm was relentless, almost feverish and each of his strokes renewed in Elena the frantic, disjointed thought that she'd be ripped to shreds by the utter sensation of his movements; it was a pleasure past endurance, too great for one body to contain and yet she couldn't bear to ask him to stop, couldn't bear to disentwine from him, to deny herself this feeling, the satisfaction of Stefan within her.

"God, Stefan…"

She pressed her hands against his back, urging him on. He grunted and redoubled his efforts, quickening his already frantic pace and Elena slammed her hand down on the carpet, bunching it in her fist, squeezing the textile as a way to rid herself of some of the excess; she tore at the fabric and ripped off a tassel, the nails of her other hand raking Stefan's back — he groaned.

Elena writhed and quivered, tilting her hips to meet Stefan's movements, his hammering causing a friction between the carpet and her naked body, the ceaseless impact bruising her thighs, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the vicious carnality of his rhythm; her muscles clenched in spasms and yet didn't relieve her with release, only devastated her with pleasure that compelled her to scream, which only compelled Stefan to thrust himself even deeper.

"You don't know how much I've wanted this," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Elena tilted her head back and Stefan ran the tip of his tongue down her throat, making Elena clench his back. He circled his hips, spiking the already sharp sensation in her belly and abruptly Elena brought her head forward and bit down hard on Stefan's shoulder, causing him to growl and moan at the same time, thrusting into her even harder, moving like he would never tire.

Elena's body was one continuous shudder that escalated with each of Stefan's thrusts, jolting and rising with his motions, threatening to physically break her apart. This was what he needed, this was what she wanted, this was what they both longed for, yearned for, for months on end: to make physical their intangible connection, to prove, really prove, to each other the extent of how much they loved one another, to literally tether themselves together. Elena bowered her head back, stretching out her neck. Stefan looked at her, his expression a mixture of desire and hesitation.

"Elena, I can't …" he whispered, his breath hot and fast, his words fragmented, his voice hoarse.

"I want you to," she said. "I trust you. I—"

He stopped her mouth with his, kissing her violently, their teeth clashing. Elena gripped his shoulder and then she felt his fangs puncture her neck, causing her to cry out so loudly she shredded her throat.

This was too much. Too — she — he — Elena forgot how to speak, how to think, how to _breathe._ Her body convulsed in waves of pleasure so penetrating that she didn't know how she could possibly not die.

It felt like — she felt like — he — they —

Stefan sucked from her neck with even more flourish and Elena kicked out her foot with such force that it smashed into one of the wooden coffee table legs, cracking it in two, making the glass tilt and shatter. The clatter echoed in Stefan's ears but he couldn't stop feeding, he couldn't stop moving; Elena was everywhere on him and he was revelling in her essence, her very _being_ , she'd allowed him that access, he was alive to experience that access and that was — it was — he was —

Stefan's body tremored with the same severity it trembled from before and he quickly extended his arm, turning his hand into a fist, and he crashed it down on the carpet, creating a hole through the material and through the wood; the impact of his punch splintered the floor throughout the living room. His other hand reached for the leg beneath the couch, his hips rotating, his tongue lapping, Elena's blood on his tongue, her legs around his waist, her moan in his ear —

 _"Stefan…"_

He thrust into Elena hard and deep, clenching the wooden couch leg in his hand, splintering it in his hold so that the couch became lopsided. He withdrew his fangs from her neck and rolled to the side, his arm beneath her body, cradling her back. Elena turned so that they were no longer side by side but that she was lying atop him. She rested her head on his chest, both of their breathing rapid.

It was a while before either of them fully returned to themselves; Stefan's fingers traced patterns on the back of Elena's shoulder blades as she skated her own fingers across his chest.

"Are you cold?" he said finally. "I can get a blanket."

"Don't you dare move," said Elena.

"Honestly, I don't think I could if I tried. You wore me out."

Elena laughed in disbelief and moved so that her chin rested on Stefan's torso, her face turned toward his. _"I_ wore _you_ out? I didn't think you were ever going to stop."

Stefan grinned and started brushing her hair with his fingers. "I didn't think you'd let me."

Elena smiled sheepishly. "Well, I missed you," she said.

Stefan looked at her seriously, his eyes moving slowly back and forth across her face. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he said.

Elena's lips parted at the sincerity in his voice and she leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. "I don't want to be apart from you. _Ever._ Again."

"Well, that's going to be difficult since you're starting college soon," said Stefan. "In a week, right?"

"You can come with me," said Elena.

"What, and ruin your authentic college experience?"

"Lots of people go to the same college as their boyfriends."

"Is that what you want, going to a dorm party with your socially awkward, brooding, a hundred and sixty-eight year old boyfriend?"

Elena held either side of Stefan's face, staring at him fixedly. "Yes," she said emphatically. Stefan grinned. "You can major in a subject you've never studied before," said Elena.

"Oh I've studied them all."

She quirked her eyebrow. "No, there is no way you've majored in every single subject in a college course book."

"What can I say," said Stefan, leaning his head toward Elena's. "I had the time." He pecked her quickly on the lips and then nuzzled his nose against hers.

"I still don't believe you," she said.

Stefan laughed. "OK," he said. "OK I'll go. It'll be fun to study psychology for a fourth time, see how much they've updated the syllabus."

"It's decided then," said Elena, biting her lip.

"It's decided," said Stefan. "But I still want you to room with Bonnie and Caroline. You should experience the horror of living with your best friends."

Elena shook her head, smiling, and kissed Stefan one more time. "OK," she said. "Now I'm cold."

Stefan moved to get up but Elena put her hand on his chest, pushing him back down to the floor. "I didn't say you could move!"

"Well what are we — hold on." Stefan reached across Elena, his fingers finding the edge of the now-destroyed carpet and he pulled it over their bodies so that they were wrapped in it, their torsos pressed together.

"There," said Elena. "That's better."

Elena woke up abruptly. Stefan felt cold and clammy beneath her and she decided that a rug wasn't enough to keep them both warm. Quietly, she inched out of his hold, slipping out from beneath the carpet and put on his shirt, walking out of the living room to the hallway in search of the linen closet.

"Damon!" she said.

Damon stood on the last step of the staircase and looked at Elena with his eyebrows raised, taking in the sight of her in his brother's shirt.

"Hello, Elena," he said. "I see you and my brother got reacquainted."

Elena clutched at the front of Stefan's shirt, shifting her weight awkwardly, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Ha - have you been here since last night?"

"Yes," said Damon, smirking. "So what you're thinking is right. I did see you and my brother lying naked on top of each other and wrapped in a 200 year-old antique carpet that is quite literally priceless. You two had better not have wrecked the bar. I had some good Scotch in that bar."

"Damon … thank you. I know I wasn't —"

"You don't have to thank me, Elena. He's my brother," said Damon, shrugging.

And then a howl broke through the relative quiet of the house. "Elena? _Elena!"_

"Stefan?"

She ran quickly back into the living room. Stefan lay, writhing, beneath the carpet, his entire body was slicked in sweat, hair stuck to his face, he was pale, a blue-tint to his skin. Elena moved to rush toward him but she felt herself get back, like she was hooked onto something. She turned her head and realized Damon was holding her back.

"He could be having a nightmare about … what happened," said Damon slowly. "He could hurt you. He wouldn't know what he was doing."

"No," said Elena. "No, this isn't a nightmare. He's, he's sick. This looks like what happens when you're infected with werewolf venom but he wasn't bit. He's sick."

"Vampires don't get sick," said Damon quietly, his eyebrows furrowed. "Call Bonnie."

Elena was about to get her phone when she heard the front door open. Bonnie walked into the living room, determination in her step.

"Bonnie," said Elena. "I was just about to call you, Stefan—"

"I know," she said.

Damon turned to her. "What do you mean you _know?"_

She ignored him and kept her gaze on Elena. "We may have a possible problem."

"What is it?"

Bonnie tilted her head toward Elena's neck. "Stefan fed from you last night, right?"

Elena touched the puncture wounds on her neck that Stefan hadn't gotten around to healing. "Yeah," she said slowly.

"Stefan's transitioning back into being a human," said Bonnie. "The spell works like the cure that way. It's in your blood so if a vampire ingests it …"

"Wait," said Elena, her expression turning to terror. "Does that mean I'm going to die?"

"No. You;re not going to die"

"Then…" Elena smiled. "I don't, I don't see the problem, Bonnie." She started to laugh. "Do you know how much this will mean to him? All he's wanted since becoming a vampire is to not be one anymore and now he —"

"Elena," said Bonnie. "The way this transition works … it could kill him. It takes a hold like a fever and he has to get through it but it's not a normal fever, it's designed to purge and … and if he does make it through, if he does become a human again … he'll only have his human memories, he'll forget his vampire ones."

"Wait, what? What does that, what are you —?"

"He will remember everything up until 1864 but he'll forget everything past that. He won't remember Caroline or me or Matt or Jeremy, or … you. He'll remember Damon and he'll remember —"

"Katherine," said Elena. "You're saying that if he survives, he won't know who I am but he'll remember Katherine, right?"

Bonnie took a deep breath. "Right."


	4. Do You Trust Me?

"Get out of my way."

"No."

"Get out of my way, Elena."

 _"No,"_ she said. She crossed her arms as she stood in the doorway to Damon's bedroom, her jaw set and her eyes ablaze with resolution. Damon was used to her glaring at him through those eyes. It was an expression unique to Stefan; an expression of the lengths she'd go to protect him.

Damon sighed and spoke slowly, each syllable he uttered punctured by the struggle for him to keep calm. "Get out of my way or I will _get_ you out of my way. You're human now, there's nothing you have that can stop me from doing what I want."

"And what do you want? If I let you go back downstairs what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give Stefan my blood, kill him and make him a vampire again, what the hell kind of stupid question is that?"

"This is exactly why you can't go down there. You don't know if he wants that."

"I don't care what he wants, he's dying!"

 _"Possibly_ dying."

"Like the distinction matters?" said Damon, his voice rising. "This is a fever the judgy little witches cooked up to purge the world of vampires, don't think for a second that he'll make it through this. They want us dead."

"They want you gone. There's a difference. Stefan becoming human again is technically ridding the world of a vampire. There's no reason to think that he can't survive this."

"Except for _that."_ Damon paused and Elena was stricken with noise; with hearing Stefan's strangled, primal cries that were so loud it echoed throughout the room, so ragged with pain that it tore through her, causing her chest to constrict and her heartbeat to rise. She closed her eyes to keep from tearing up; his shrieks agitated her body with a need to rid him of his anguish, with a need to still him, soothe him and she uncrossed her arms, putting her hands to her forehead then running them through her hair to give herself something to do. She never could bear witnessing Stefan in any sort of pain.

"Maybe that doesn't sound serious to you but Caroline is down there with him and I can hear how anxious she is and —"

"Don't do that," said Elena sharply. "Don't act like I don't care about the pain he's in. I don't just hear his suffering, Damon, I _feel_ it."

"Then stop being so selfish."

Elena couldn't control herself and started yelling. " _I'm_ being selfish?"

"You're willing to risk his life on the off-chance you and him will get to ride off in the sunset together and start your normal, boring human life!"

"This has _nothing_ to do with me. This is about Stefan. This is about how he hates nothing more than being a vampire, how every day is a struggle for him because he thinks he's wrong. He told me, Damon. Like I told him. He doesn't want this life! The only reason why he didn't take the cure was because he wanted me to have it. Well I'm human now and I'm giving him the choice like how he gave me. You underestimate him."

"I do not—"

"Yes you do! This is Stefan, Damon. _Stefan._ He won't die. He wouldn't do that to us. He fought compulsion for me and broke it for you, he will live through this!"

"You're being naïve."

"And you're being reckless! You don't even know if giving him your blood under these circumstances would work! We've never dealt with anything like this. At least if we make Stefan decide on what he wants to do, we'll both know what happens next was his choice!"

"Then I'm going with you."

"No."

Damon looked at her appraisingly. "You're not going to tell him. You're not going to tell him that if he becomes human he'll lose all of his vampire memories because you know he'll never go through with it if it means forgetting you."

"I'm not going to stand in the way of him and what he's wanted for over a century. And I have faith that he'll remember, maybe he won't remember who I am but he'll remember the feeling."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Even for you, Elena, that's—"

"It's not naïve! Stefan — Stefan—" Elena gesticulated wildly, trying her best to articulate what she was trying to say. "He _knows_ me, Damon and I know him. And it was instant. I told you I fell for him instantly and it's because of that feeling, like he just knew exactly who I was, what I felt without me having to say anything. And I felt that before we even made memories together. That won't just go away."

"I'm not going to let you manipulate him into a decision _you_ want him to make," said Damon. "I'm not going to tell you again, get out of my way."

Elena sighed, taking a small step into the room, unblocking the doorway. "You've left me no choice. _Caroline!"_

It happened before Damon could get a word out. There was a swish of movement, a blur of colour and then the _crick_ of a neck snapping. Damon crumpled to the floor and Caroline stood over his still body, her hands on her hips, a small smirk twisting her mouth.

"I'm not going to lie, I enjoyed doing that," she said.

Elena swallowed uneasily, looking at Damon's body on the floor. "Just keep him here until I'm done speaking to Stefan."

"Of course," said Caroline.

Elena turned to leave.

"Elena."

She looked back at Caroline who bit her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and then hesitated but then started to speak. "He doesn't look good," she said slowly, staring at her intently.

Elena lowered her eyes. "Just keep Damon here, OK?"

She didn't wait for Caroline to answer and walked through the doorway, descending the stairs to the living room, trying to steel herself with every step, prepare herself for the sight to come.

Stefan was lying in the same spot she'd left him in; on the living room floor wrapped in the carpet they'd made love on, but now there was a pillow beneath his head and a bowl of soup as well as a blood bag by his side — they didn't know which one he'd want, which one he should drink to feel better. No one wanted to move him from that spot in case it triggered something.

Elena slowly approached him, trying not to notice his sweat-slicked pale skin, trying not to listen to his chattering teeth, trying not to flinch with every convulsion he made, trying not to panic at the rapid movement behind his closed eyelids. The moment she was close enough for him to see her, Stefan's eyes snapped open, at first unfocused and frantic but the moment they found her, they remained fixed on her and Stefan smiled his slow-moving smile that still flooded Elena with warmth.

"Hey," he said.

Elena knelt next to him, sitting cross-legged, and she shifted his body slightly so that his head was resting on her lap. He moved his arm, reaching behind him so that his hand held her knee. She clasped her own hand on his and took a deep breath, smiling as brightly as she could. "Hey," she said.

"Do I really look that bad?"

"What do you mean, you look fine."

Stefan grinned. "You're such a liar," he coughed. His body started to shudder and Elena put her hand on Stefan's forehead, softly brushing his hair with her fingers."Shh," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and moaned, a deep, satisfied sound in his throat and Elena continued to stroke his hair, gliding her fingers down to his face as Stefan started to move his thumb back and forth on Elena's knee. They stayed like that for a bit until Stefan cleared his throat.

"Elena," he said. "I know I'm sick and I don't really know what the effects on my body are but I do still have my senses."

"What are you—"

"I heard your argument with Damon," said Stefan. "I know I could be dying."

Elena blinked. "But you could also be transitioning back into a human."

"Knowing the witches, death is probably more likely."

"Stefan, if you're afraid of dying—"

"I'm not," said Stefan emphatically. He pressed his lips together and then sighed, his breathing getting more and more laboured. Elena watched him intently, her fingers still combing through his hair.

"I'm not afraid of dying," said Stefan through wheezing breaths. "I'm afraid of what I'll lose. Being a vampire also brought me to Lexi. It brought me to Caroline and Matt and Bonnie. It brought me to you. I don't want to lose remembering all of that."

"You won't," said Elena. "You won't because it's all in your journals. Lexi, Caroline, all of it. I would never let you forget them."

"And you? A journal isn't the same as—"

"Stefan," said Elena, bending her head so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "How do you want to live your life?"

"With you in it," said Stefan.

"I will be," said Elena, smiling. "I don't know how not to be. No matter what happens, I'm going to be here so that just leaves one question, what do you _want_ to happen?"

"I just don't want…"

"Stefan," said Elena, gently gripping the sides of his face so that his head remained tilted up, her eyes moving back and forth across his expression, forbidding him from looking away from her. "I trust us. I'm not afraid of what will happen when you become human again if that's what you want to do. You've always found your way back home." She lowered her head and pressed her lips against his, kissing him with passionate conviction, his hand moved from her knee to the back of her head. She pulled away only slightly so that her lips brushed against his when she whispered. "How do you want to live your life? It's OK. Tell me."

Stefan took a deep breath in. "Human," he said.

Elena kissed him again, more fervently than before, her hands clutching his face.

"I'll remember," said Stefan. "I promise I'll remember."

"I know," said Elena. "I know you will."


	5. I Know You Will

They love each other as deeply as two people can love each other, but that doesn't mean that their relationship is infallible.

— Julie Plec,

The pain was even worse than drowning; what Stefan was currently suffering through was a unique form of torment — a psychological torture that anguished his body. No. Not psychological; it wasn't an experience his mind concocted, this wasn't an effect of a trauma, this was _happening._ Memories were falling away or blurring together or disappearing entirely leaving gaps and chasms in his head that he struggled to fill, to make sense of but couldn't; he was stricken with flashes of images, spikes of emotion so intense that his body convulsed violently. His head pounded with the turmoil and blinded him with excruciating delirium so that he wasn't sure what was real and what was illusion, what was missing and what was still there or if he was missing anything at all; hot and cold at the same time, sweating and chilled, Stefan's skin felt tight and feverish — like a prison entrapping him in its confines and he wanted nothing more than to break free of it. He dragged his nails across his arm, scratching with fervour, scratching with rage, like a man possessed, scratching to slash and gash and tear so that he felt himself begin to bleed, his teeth clenched with the pain and then suddenly, he felt it — a soft pressure, a gentle weight, like a hand; first on his own hand so that he stopped scrabbling and then on his scratches so that his itching was instantly soothed, his convulsions calming. Stefan exhaled deeply a number of times, squeezing his eyes open and shut in an attempt to force himself to see something real. A blurry figure. Stooped. Hunched.

"You should go," he said, his voice raspy. "You should go, you shouldn't be here."

"Where else would I be?" Elena's tone was soft but it was also incredulous, almost offended, and she brought Stefan's head further onto her lap, her fingers running across his forehead, brushing away the hairs plastered against his sweat-prickled skin.

"Elena, please," said Stefan. "I don't want you to—" He coughed and reached once more for his arm, itching at the rakes his nails had left before. Elena grabbed his hand again, keeping it from making contact with his skin; she touched his knuckles to her lips and then bent down to kiss the scratches on his arm. Stefan sighed, it was a slow and relieved sound, and Elena smoothed her palm over his scrapes.

"Try not to," she whispered; she tried to keep her voice steady but she could hear the shakiness.

"I don't want you seeing me like this."

"I don't care," she said. "I'm not leaving you."

Stefan closed his eyes, swallowing hard and then started to shiver, his teeth chattering. Elena watched him, her lips pressed together to keep from crying, and then looked up to Caroline who was sitting on one of the sofas, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her closed hands. She was tight-lipped and wide-eyed, staring at Stefan. A quiet Caroline. Never a good sign. Elena told herself to breathe.

There was a creak of the floorboard and Elena turned to look in the direction of the noise; Damon and Bonnie had stepped beneath the archway. Damon tilted his head to the side in a gesture for Elena to come. She looked from him to Stefan, a tremor beneath her face.

"It's OK," said Caroline, getting up from the couch. "It's OK, I'll watch him."

Elena chewed on her bottom lip, looking once more at Stefan. She kissed his forehead and slowly started to shift her position, holding his head, gently moving it back to the pillow, her hand stroking his cheek before standing up fully. She followed Damon and Bonnie into the foyer.

"He isn't healing," said Elena to Bonnie. "Is that a good sign? Does that mean he's transitioning back into a human? If we was dying he would just desiccate, right?"

"Normal rules don't apply here," said Bonnie. "I spoke to the witches … they don't even know what this is. Not really."

"How is that even possible?" said Damon. "They have all the answers to everything else but when it's something that's actually useful, suddenly they're tapped out?"

"Well have _you_ ever seen anything like this, Damon? You've been alive for over a century, why haven't you ever come across this?"

"Because I'm not a witch or a warlock or a wizard, whatever the hell you want to call it. I'm not the one who came up with this."

"But considering that this affects you and all vampires, you would think you'd make it your business to know, wouldn't you?"

"Listen you little —"

 _"Enough!"_

Damon and Bonnie both turned sharply toward Elena; she was standing still like she was holding her breath and her jaw was set, her eyes slit with fury.

"I don't have time for this. _Stefan_ doesn't have time for this. So I need you two to put your differences aside and _FOCUS."_

Bonnie sighed. "Elena, this magic, it's old but the application is new. Unique even. This isn't something witches go around doing, trust me. I don't even think this has happened before now."

"And how am I supposed to believe that? Because the witches said so? How do we know that they're telling the truth?"

"Because …" Damon said slowly. "Because if this was something the witches went around doing, they would go around doing it. Vampires would be being purged left and right."

"Exactly," said Bonnie.

"So then …" Elena shook her head, grabbing her hair with her fists. "Who did this?"

"Probably the same person who spelled Stefan in the locker," said Bonnie.

"OK but why. I don't understand why anyone would do that to Stefan of all people," said Elena. "It's _Stefan."_

"Right, and knowing Stefan, it's probably some crazy ex."

"Oh I wouldn't call myself an ex, that's so mundane."

Quickly, Elena, Damon and Bonnie turned to the side. Even though none of them heard the front door squeak or unlock or make any kind of noise, it was wide open and a woman was standing on the threshold, smirking.

Elena's lips parted. "Rosetta."

"Hello again, Elena."

Elena couldn't do anything but stare at the woman in front of her. She'd shown up in Mystic Falls months earlier when Elena had still been a vampire and she'd shown up for Stefan. It had been the only time Elena had doubted herself in her relationship. When Katherine came back, she'd been _bothered_ , anxious at the thought of her and him alone together but never worried that anything would happen between them; when Rebekah passed through town, Elena had been vexed, beyond irritated by the woman who dared to think she knew Stefan better. But with Rosetta … she had managed to make Elena feel small in the brief moments they interacted; Elena had been privy to Stefan's memories of his nights with her and seeing the intensity of what they'd shared had made Elena question not her place in Stefan's heart but the extent to which she satiated his appetite. And now Rosetta was here. Now she was responsible. Now Elena was enraged. It was the first time since turning human that she longed for her vampirism just so she could ram Rosetta's head through the door.

"Wait. Hold on," said Damon, interrupting Elena's thoughts. He turned to her. "Who is this?"

"You mean you don't know?" Elena looked at Rosetta, raising her eyebrows. "That's how much you meant to Stefan, his own brother didn't even know about you."

Rosetta laughed. "Honey, why would he know? What Stefan and I share is private, our own little secret if you will."

"Shared. Past tense."

"Is someone going to fill me in or — ?"

"She was a _witch_ Stefan lost his virginity to," snapped Elena. "He met her in 1845."

Damon furrowed his eyebrows. "Moving past the fact that I'm mildly impressed Human Stefan was able to bag a woman as hot as you, this is a bit of an overreaction for something that probably only lasted a couple of minutes, isn't it?"

Rosetta pursed her lips sardonically. "Do you really want to go down that road, Damon? You spent a century pining for a woman who didn't love you back."

"How do you know —?"

"You wear your resentment of Katherine like a suit of armour, I can Read it all over you," she said. "Besides, I wasn't just Stefan's first time, I was his first lover." She rolled her tongue around the 'er' of the word 'lover'. "And when I left Mystic Falls, he begged me to link him to me so that he'd be able to feel it every time we were near."

"He regrets _ever_ asking you to do that," said Elena through clenched teeth, her hands closed in fists.

"Oh I know he does," said Rosetta.

"Then what's the _point?_ Stefan said that you didn't 'do' relationships, that you don't like being tied down to one person."

"I don't."

"So then _why_ are you doing this?"

Rosetta shrugged and started trailing her fingers up the doorway, watching the movements they made along the wood. "I thought it would be interesting."

"You thought — you thought it would be interesting? _What the hell is wrong with you?"_ Elena took a step forward but Damon held her by the shoulder and pulled her easily back to the spot she was about to leave.

"You don't have vampire strength anymore, remember?" he muttered.

Rosetta rolled her eyes. "Ugh, children. Honestly, I don't see what it is that Stefan sees in you. You're so young, so righteous, you'd never be able to understand."

"Make me understand why you would do this to him!"

"I'm bored, little girl. When you've been alive for as long as I've been alive, life can start to get monotonous and you have to create your own fun." Rosetta's eyes turned to Damon. "Ask him, he knows."

Bonnie and Elena turned to look at him and he shrugged. "I mean … I don't go around torturing people—"

"Yes you do!" said Bonnie.

"Not for fun. I mean, I'm not going to say that I don't enjoy it when I do it but if I do it there's a purpose."

Bonnie shook her head. "There's _never_ a purpose to —"

"I still don't see why," said Elena loudly, cutting over Bonnie. "You had to choose Stefan to do this sadistic experiment on."

"Stefan was one of the things in my world that didn't get boring and you took that away from me. So I thought I could find other ways to make him interesting to me."

"You didn't have to torture him!" said Elena.

"No but he was rude to me," said Rosetta simply. "He made me feel unwanted."

"You make Katherine look like Mary Freaking Poppins," said Damon. "Stefan really knows how to pick 'em."

Cries of anguish sounded from the living and blared throughout the house to the foyer, the noise ragged and rough with indescribable agony. Elena closed her eyes. "I thought you cared about him!"

Rosetta turned to lean against the doorway. "I care about what he can offer me and if it isn't his body then…"

"What, it has to be his _pain?"_ Elena took another step forward and Damon moved to block her again but she struggled against his grasp. Stefan's screams echoed in Elena's head, a permanent tear in her chest; the image of him weak and sick, delirious and barely conscious stirred a frenzy within her that made her entire body tremble. _"Don't you hear him?"_

"I do. I hear him dying."

Damon and Bonnie spoke at the same time. _"Dying?"_

"I'm not saying he isn't fighting it. He is," said Rosetta. "He's fighting harder than he's ever fought before to come back to you, Elena. And you, Damon. He'll linger for days. Maybe even weeks. In excruciating agony. But in the end he'll die."

"You don't know him," said Elena. "He'll break through this."

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'll ensure it," said Rosetta. "This entire situation is of my concoction and the minute I'm bored of watching him fight for his life, the minute I don't get any kind of entertainment watching you and Damon and everyone else live and die with each of his coughs or convulsions, I will end it all. I have that kind of power."

"What happened to you that this is how you use your power?" said Bonnie. "This is a perversion of magic."

Rosetta raised her eyebrows at Bonnie and grinned. "And using your magic to cut corners and revive the dead isn't a perversion? The witches told me about you, Bonnie. You have Bennett ability, you might even be the most powerful Bennett yet, but you're shutting down your own potential messing around with the natural order of things."

"And this isn't messing around with the natural order of things?"

"Stefan is a vampire. Nothing _about_ him is natural," said Rosetta. "I may have slowed down the aging process but I am not immortal. I'm a human. I belong here. Personally, I don't care. I never cared about the skirmishes between witches and vampires, I am not an orthodox witch preoccupied with the balance and nature or whatever else, but the witches aren't punishing me for this because they are."

In an instant, Damon sped toward Rosetta who simply moved her eyes sideways and Damon flew backward crashing into the wall opposite the door, cracking the wood panelling, his head twisting to an impossible angle. She sighed. "Oh Damon. Forever the impulsive one," she said. "I am nearly twice as old as Katherine and I'm a witch. You really think you could killing me would be that simple?"

"OK," said Elena sharply. "OK. We get it. You're in control. You control him. You control me. You control Stefan. What do you want?"

"Maybe what I want is to see him die."

"No," said Elena. "No, that wouldn't be interesting. Death may not always be final but it isn't particularly stimulating either. What do you want that's interesting?"

Rosetta regarded Elena and then raised her eyebrow ponderously. "Stefan alone."

"Alone?"

"I will let him live if you and Damon and Caroline and Bonnie, if all of you leave him alone, never go near him, never contact him. Better yet if he wakes up from his delirium in a completely new town."

 _"WHAT?"_ Elena yelled. "He's going to lose all of his vampire memories! If he wakes up in 2016 not knowing why or how he got here or even what year it is or what happened to Damon, he's going to go mad!"

"Which will be tremendously interesting, don't you think?"

Elena shook her head frantically, gesticulating wildly. "You're insane!"

"She's right, that would be interesting," said Damon.

Bonnie and Elena snapped their heads around to look at him. _"Damon!"_

"Just because I agree with the premise doesn't mean I think we should let it happen," said Damon, massaging his neck as he stood up. "I'm sure we can bargain."

"But I'm not really in the mood to haggle…"

Stefan's cries grew louder and Elena squeezed her eyes shut, hunching her shoulders, her heart thudding against her chest. "Please, you can't do this to him. He meant something to you once. He had to. He means something to everyone at least once. He's a good person, like a truly good person. What will it take for you to reconsider? What do I have to do?"

Rosetta considered Elena for a minute and then started pacing, swinging her arms back and forth, making clucking sounds with her tongue as she wandered. "You've really moved me, Elena," she said finally. "Really, you have. I have a certain disdain for relationships, for being limited, trapped to one person, it's really quite dull. But what you and Stefan share …" She sighed. "It's the real thing. To be tethered to someone, to be naturally tied to them, Honest to God soulmates … I don't think you realize how rare that is. So." She clapped her hands together. "To honour that, I'll be nice. You have to let him forget you, Elena. You have to let him forget Caroline and Bonnie, Matt and Tyler and Jeremy, everyone. And he has to wake up in a new town. But —"

"Wait a minute—"

"Damon, shut up," said Elena. She looked at Rosetta. "Go on."

Rosetta smirked. _"But._ I will allow him one journal; one journal that you think best explains his vampirism and Damon, you only have to stay away from him for … I don't know, ten years?"

"Two," said Damon.

"Eight."

"Three."

"Fine, five," said Rosetta. "And he gets one letter from you, one letter explaining why you aren't with him for those five years and Elena." Rosetta turned to her. "You get to write one line in it. OK one sentence. One sentence in the letter. But if either of you mention her, if anything in that journal mentions their relationship or if any of you try to jog his memory about the six years he spent here after meeting Elena, I will kill you, Damon, while he watches and then kill him while you watch, Elena, and then things will be _really_ interesting. Are we understood?"

Elena opened her mouth, her bottom lip quivering. "I'll do it on one condition," she said.

"You have no leverage here and you're giving me conditions?"

 _"One_ condition."

"Alright, I'm intrigued. What is it?"

Bonnie took Elena by the arm and pulled her to the side so that they were huddled together. "Elena, don't do anything rash. I'm sure we can figure something out. There can be a spell or a potion, I'm getting really good with those now. There has to be something in someone's grimoire. There's always something."

Elena looked at Bonnie sadly. "There isn't another way. Like you said, this is a unique case, no one before us has gone through anything like it. I just need him to be safe."

"This condition? I'm getting bored…"

"You sever the tie you made between yourself and him. He'll remember you from his human memories, that's enough."

Rosetta smiled. "Agreed."

Elena looked to Damon who gave a curt nod. "OK it's a deal," she said.

Rosetta grinned and then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She muttered something in Latin and her entire body started to tremor, the walls began shaking, the lights began to shatter so that glass splintered everywhere, and then just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. She opened her eyes.

"You have until the end of the day to get everything in order."

 _"The end of the day?"_ said Damon. "To write a letter, pick a journal out of his _hundreds_ of journals, to get him to a new town, set him up with a bank account—"

Rosetta quirked her eyebrow. "I'm being generous," she said. "Don't make me take it back."

"The end of the day, we understand," said Elena quietly. "Now get the hell out."

"I'm starting to understand what it is Stefan sees in you," said Rosetta, chuckling. "You're more interesting than you look, Elena Gilbert." She waved an ironic goodbye and then turned on her heel and sauntered out of the Salvatore Mansion.

The minute she left, there was a whisper of speed and Caroline was in the foyer with the rest of them. "I heard everything. What do we do?"

"We can't risk him dying," said Elena. "If we do anything to upset her—"

"Or bore her," said Damon.

"Then Stefan dies. So we prepare. Damon write the letter and pick a journal. Make sure he talks about Lexi in it," said Elena. "I can't let him forget her. I won't. Caroline, if you can make it down to the bank, it's going to require some compulsion to get everything we need in such a short period of time. Bonnie …" Elena sighed. "Just … just see if you _can_ find anything on how to fix this or on how to kill her or immobilize her, I don't know anything, just in case. You can see if Matt or Jeremy want to help. Either of you."

"And what are you going to do?" said Caroline.

"Be with him," said Elena simply. "I'm going to be with him and I'm going to look up vacancies in towns close by, look up schools, look up jobs, get him set up."

"How are you going to do both?" said Damon.

"It's called the internet, Damon," said Caroline, rolling her eyes. "Your laptop is in his room? I'll go get it."

"Actually …" Elena pressed her lips together. "Could you two bring him up to his room? He should be in his bed."

"Of course," said Caroline.

Elena watched teary-eyed as everyone scrambled to action; Caroline and Damon speeding into the living room to bring Stefan up to his room, Bonnie rushing out the front door, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone, probably to call Matt or Jeremy or both. Quickly, she put her hand to her stomach in an attempt to keep herself together, to stop herself from falling apart, from giving way to the sorrow itching her to splinter her apart. She took a deep breath and remembered what Stefan had taught her the last time she was close to letting emotion overwhelm her and focused on the one thing that made her strong, that worked at keeping her fused together — the one line she would write to him in the letter:

 _I know you will. I know you will. I know you will. I know you will. I know you will…_


	6. The Sixth Paragraph

Stefan Salvatore sat up in bed, the lamp on his nightstand his only source of light as he hunched over a piece of paper like he had done many nights was two o'clock in the morning and everyone else on his street had gone to bed, a sleepy silence blanketing the entire neighbourhood, but he was too awake with the need to understand to even think about joining them.

The paper in his hands was in fact a letter, one he'd read so many times that it was creased and tattered, ripped a bit in corners; faint smudges of blue tinted the white sheet because Stefan always kept it in the back pocket of his jeans to take out and look over whenever the urge struck him, which was often. The page couldn't even be laid flat due to the amount of times he pursued it. It was a letter that was supposed to answer questions so they wouldn't burn him with vexed unfulfillment but instead it plagued him with a frustrated curiosity that had consumed him to the point of obsession, which had overwhelmed him to the point of near-insanity. He'd suffered this for three years — ever since he woke up in this exact bed with no memory as to how he got there. On his chest was a leather-bound journal and this letter, at the time sealed, with his brother's handwriting on the envelope.

The journal was a strange enough phenomenon. The pages were filled with Stefan's own slanted cursive, detailing things that didn't make sense, that _couldn't_ make sense, but that he somehow knew almost immediately, were true. What he learned from the journal was this:

1\. He was a vampire.

2\. Katherine, the woman he vowed to love forever, the woman who had awakened such a frenzied passion in him that it destroyed his relationship with his brother, Damon, was actually a vampire all along and was responsible for his death, for a war that overrun Mystic Falls, and finally, for turning him.

3\. She died when his father and the council figured out that she was a vampire.

4\. She didn't actually die.

5\. He, Stefan, was responsible for turning Damon, forcing him to feed on human blood and Stefan was never able to forgive himself for that.

6\. He accidentally murdered his own father, which was yet another sin he could never forgive himself for.

7\. Damon was a monstrous vampire.

8\. Not as monstrous as Stefan, though, because Stefan was a ripper — a kind of vampire who was insatiable, who with one taste of human blood would decimate entire towns.

9\. He stopped decimating entire towns with the help of his best friend, Lexi Branson, who he loved dearly.

10\. Damon killed her.

11\. Damon pined for Katherine for over a century.

12\. Damon actually did have humanity.

13\. Damon and him had issues.

He had read through the journal four more times, front to back, absorbing each word, each concept, each apparent truth. Admittedly, at first Stefan worried that he'd lost his mind, that he'd been sent to an asylum and he was experiencing a moment of lucidity that allowed him to read his journal entries for what they were — the ramblings of a mad man. But then he looked at his clothes, his bed, the room he was in, there were gadgets he'd never seen before everywhere around him — this clearly wasn't 1864, he had clearly lived for a long time. And he knew that everything that he'd read had been the truth. That he had become the very thing his father, his entire town had despised with such furious conviction; that he was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people; that he was a monster. Truly.

The guilt, the shame, the sheer disgust at his own capability was enough for Stefan to rid the world of himself and if the journal were the only thing he was left with, then he would've; he would've staked himself or set the house on fire, anything to cleanse the world of his depravity. But then he saw the letter, the familiarity of Damon's handwriting and its presence planted a seed in his mind, stirred curiosity in him, and so he tore open the envelope.

The first two paragraphs detailed important, basic things, like the fact that he wasn't a vampire anymore, that the year was 2016, what a car was, how to use a computer, his bank account information — things he needed to know to survive.

Paragraph three further explained his transition back to humanity, how he'd been a key figure in one of Rosetta's games and how one of her conditions dictated that Damon not be allowed to see him for five years.

When Stefan reached paragraph four, it was a section that added further complexity to his relationship with his brother; in only a few sentences, Stefan could sense Damon's gratitude and resentment toward him, which in turn brought forward in Stefan feelings of obligation and disappointment toward Damon; emotions that felt old and weighted, full of a history he couldn't completely remember.

The fifth paragraph was apologetic and pregnant with nostalgia, a promise of reunion between the two of them, which invoked in Stefan an odd sense of affection and loss, the want for his brother at his side despite and in spite of the pain they seemed to have put each other through. It was a desire that was in equal measure to the guilt he suffered for the atrocities he'd committed and it was enough to imbue him with the will to live, to see his brother again.

But the sixth paragraph …

That sixth paragraph … … … ….

The sixth paragraph was only one line. One sentence, four words, repeated over and over. _I know you will. I know you will. I know you will._ It had absolutely nothing to do with the paragraphs before it. Stefan had read the entire letter again and again and _again_ to make sure he hadn't skipped over something or missed a clue that tied those words into everything else. The handwriting was different than Damon's and it reminded him of things he couldn't remember, of things he instantly wanted to remember with such ferocity, with such _longing_ that his entire body hummed with the concentration to recall, and each time he couldn't, each time he failed, he was overcome with a despair that seemed to leave him empty, hollow, devoid. And he couldn't place why. He couldn't understand what it was or why it was so absolutely imperative, fundamental to who he was as a person that he remember something he couldn't even articulate to himself. It was a need stronger than his guilt, more willful than his desire to reunite with Damon — not more significant but more influential. That sixth paragraph tore him apart with frustration and yet comforted him with its existence, with its repeated, stubborn encouragement: _I know you will. I_ know you will. I _know_ you will. I know _you_ will. I know you _will._ They know I will what? Survive? Live? Atone? Repent? That paragraph incited in Stefan the motivation to push forward in the life Rosetta forced him into in the hopes that by living it, he would remember what it was that sentence reminded him of. He got a job, enrolled in school — high school, _again,_ because Damon hadn't had the time to forge transcripts for him; joined the science club, the history association, and in between periods, on lunch breaks at work, right before he went to bed, Stefan would open that letter and read the sixth paragraph again.

The handwriting belonged to a woman. He couldn't explain how he knew that but it was something that he felt with his entire being. He traced each loop and swirl of the cursive with his finger, smiled at the way the dots on the i's were slanted. And then sometimes, he would feel them. Bursts of emotion when examining the sentence: overwhelming tenderness, or pure contentment, indescribable sadness, profound loss … and just as suddenly as they came, they'd disappear, leaving Stefan shaking and breathless and teary-eyed from the utter intensity of it. And the minute he collected himself, he would read the sixth paragraph again.

 _I know you will. I know you will. I know you will. I know you will. I know you will … … …_


	7. Just A Feeling

It was eight o'clock in the morning and already the air was hot and sticky, an oppressive force that clung to the skin and parched the throat. In the Salvatore Mansion, Elena had thrown open every window in Stefan's room, the hot breeze blowing her hair dry even though she had just taken a shower. Elena pulled on a red tank top, staring at Stefan's bed as she did. Abruptly, she was stricken with one of her happiest memories; an ordinary morning getting ready for school. Only Stefan wouldn't let her. She'd tried to stand her ground, "Stefan, it's school. You know that thing we keep forgetting about?" But the moment his hands, strong and gentle, rubbed her body, the instant his lips, soft and urgent, found hers, her resolve had completely disappeared, her protests turned into giggles and all she could do was squeal, "Fine, five minutes, only five minutes!" as he lifted her onto him and brought her to his bed, his growl in her ear, prickling her skin with shivers. Then Katherine had appeared a few minutes later and ruined everything. Like how Rebekah had appeared to ruin everything a few months after that. And like how Rosetta had appeared to ruin everything a couple of years after _that._ Stefan had a revolving door of crazed ex-girlfriends intent on simply _ruining_ any current happiness. But if she was completely honest with herself, Elena could understand them, their motives. Stefan Salvatore wasn't the kind of man you simply let go of. To be loved by him, to be wanted by him — it brought unspeakable joy, to feel secured and exhilarated at the same time, safe and nervous, calmed and impassioned. And then to see him love another woman, desire another woman … it shifted something in you. Elena had suffered that shift one too many times herself and could relate to the jealous impulsiveness it inspired. But she would never … she could never …

Elena ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. What Rosetta did to Stefan, what she did to them, there was no way Elena could ever be able to do anything so cruel. She took a deep breath in and looked around for her purse. It was on the settee. The same settee Stefan had stared at Elena, focused and intense, his eyes shining with sincere conviction and told her for the first time that he loved her. "You are the woman that I love … I love you." Elena closed her eyes as the echo of that moment reverberated through her.

This room was full of memories, that was why Elena had spent the past three summer breaks here. It would be impossible to forget Stefan, impossible for their relationship to become nothing more than a distant memory, but living in the same house he did, sleeping in the same room he did, if only for three months out of the year, it brought him closer to her. It was strange but spending the summer living in his room, it pulled her through the everyday of class and frat parties and midterms and dating and friend luncheons. It pulled her through the everyday of life. The echo of his presence motivated her to push forward, to make the most out of the life she was forced to live without him because to despair, to give up, it would be an insult to what they were and in any case, every summer she could return to what was left of him, she could return home.

There was a knock. Elena turned around to see Caroline in the doorway, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Elena furrowed her eyebrows.

"That can't be all you're bringing."

"Are you kidding? The rest of my bags are already in the car."

Elena gave her head a nod in understanding. "Ah."

"And you? Are you ready?"

Elena glanced at three packed suitcases next to Stefan's bed and a familiar twinge of regret cracked her chest at the knowledge that she had to wait another year before being able to sleep beneath those sheets again.

"I still don't get it."

Elena looked back toward the doorway and saw that Matt had joined Caroline in the hallway.

"Get what?" said Elena.

"Why you two have to leave so soon. The semester doesn't start for another two weeks."

"We're frosh leaders, Matt. All of the proposals may've been approved and the schedule may've already been confirmed but we still have to get everything organized," said Caroline.

"And that's going to take two weeks?"

"The way I do it, yes."

Matt glanced at Elena and they both pressed their lips together to keep from laughing.

"Now help me with Elena's bags." Caroline walked into the room and grabbed a hold of one of the suitcases.

"I thought vampires were supposed to have super strength," said Matt, following her.

"Yes but we don't sprout extra hands. Elena, are you coming? Bonnie's waiting in the car," said Caroline as she and Matt rounded the corner to the staircase.

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

Elena listened to the wheels of her suitcases clank against the floor as Matt and Caroline walked down the stairs to the foyer. She turned around, her back facing the door and looked at the room at large; the book-lined walls, the leather sofa, the cluttered desk. Even after all these years it still smelled like him, looked like him, _felt_ like him; serious and gentle, ponderous and romantic. Elena took a deep breath in and closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. She headed toward the hallway. "And I'll see you soon," she said, shutting the door behind her.

Stefan sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, his lips tightly pressed together, and his hand beneath his chin. His best friend of three years, Michael Dier, was driving, banging on the steering wheel like it was a drum set as Rush blared from the stereo. Michael was saying something as he air-drummed but Stefan barely heard him; he was preoccupied with the whispers of memories, focusing on trying to fully recall what he was half-remembering while also losing himself in vivid recollections of a different life, a different era. Moments like this when he struggled to remember something he knew he should never have forgotten but remembered everything about a life he shouldn't even be alive to revisit burrowed a chasm in his mind, fracturing what he believed to be real and what he believed to be fantasy. In the early days, early weeks, early months, he thought he would be driven insane by how much he didn't know, how much he did know, and the gaps in between, the gaps heavy with history but empty of any actual memory. But now he learned to embrace the confusion whenever it consumed him, to ride out the chasm until it passed and he could be half-way normal again.

"Stefan. _Stefan."_

"Hmm?" Stefan snapped his head toward Michael. "What is it? You want me to take over?"

"No," said Michael, shaking his head. He looked at Stefan incredulously. "Man, where do you _go_ when you do that?"

Stefan sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I'm just …" He shook his head and looked behind him to the trunk jam-packed with suitcases and duffle bags, the backseat covered in boxes. "I'm just nervous, you know. College."

Even as he said the words, Stefan knew they weren't true. Of course he didn't remember actually going to university, all of his memories stopped at the night he'd been shot to death by one of his father's men, but even though he couldn't remember, he felt a great sense of weariness at the thought of college, like he'd already been there too many times to count and this time around wouldn't shed any new light on the experience.

"Right, college," said Michael.

Stefan stared at him. "Just say it."

Michael shook his head. "It's nothing."

"It's a long drive, Michael."

Michael took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. "I just don't get it, 'kay? You had options, like serious options. Full ride to Ohio State, Notre Dame, LSU, some of the best football colleges in the country and you chose to go to _Whitmore College?_ Their football program didn't even rank."

"Well someone had to follow you here, keep you from flunking out," said Stefan, grinning.

"Yeah well I appreciate that," said Michael. "I'm just saying."

"Whitmore has one of the best history programs in the country," said Stefan.

"You're pre-med, dude."

Stefan laughed. "I'm still majoring in history. I didn't know you cared so much."

"Like I said, I just don't get it."

Stefan opened his mouth to speak but then stopped himself. He regarded Michael. "Don't you ever have —"

"If you talk to me about having one of your 'feelings' I swear I'll pull over and make you walk the rest of the way to campus. I am not kidding. Do you even know what the hell you're talking about when you say shit like that?"

"No, that's the point," said Stefan. "It's a feeling."

"And this feeling you can't name, describe or explain is what made you choose Whitmore College?"

"I'm not done here," said Stefan. "I just have this feeling like I need to be close by. It comes from the same place as …"

"As what?"

Stefan didn't answer right away and tried to pinpoint what exactly he was trying to communicate. Something in Damon's letter, it urged him to stay close even though those words weren't explicitly written and Stefan felt obliged to listen, to stay local for the next four years so it would be easy for Damon to find him. But there was something else to it; instinctively, Stefan reached behind him to his back pocket where the letter was, where those four words were.

"It comes from the same place as where I go when I zone out," said Stefan absently. "Anyway, I don't know why you're complaining. With me at Whitmore, I can be your personal trainer, get you off the bench during the season, actually get you to play."

Michael laughed. "Douchebag."

"I'm pretty sure we hit something a while back," said Bonnie. "The car feels uneven."

"Because the road isn't paved," said Caroline as she inched the jeep forward. "I thought we were going to fix that, I spoke to the Dean himself about it."

Elena smirked and shook her head. "Look at all these cars," she said, glancing out the window to the massive traffic jam ahead of them. They were gridlocked on the path into the campus parking lot; Toyotas and Hondas and jeeps and minivans with couches or beds or bins strapped to their roofs. "We were stupid to think that the campus would be empty."

"We didn't know that this crop of freshmen would be such keeners. Even _I_ didn't feel the need to move into campus two weeks early," said Caroline. "And we come from a town where if you stay too long you die at least once. Oh hurry _up!"_

Just as Caroline pushed down on the horn there was a loud _pop_ and a hissing noise.

"What was that?" said Elena.

"The tire!" said Caroline. "I think we have a flat."

Bonnie sighed. "I _told_ you, we hit something back there!"

"What are we going to do, we're in the middle of the road with like twenty cars in front and behind us," said Elena.

"And we already used our spare," said Bonnie.

"Great," said Caroline, throwing up her hands. "Just great."

"Why did we think the campus would be empty," said Stefan, resting his head against the headrest. They'd been in the same exact spot, behind a black jeep for ten minutes. "The brochure did say we could move in two weeks before the semester starts, we should've known there'd be people here today."

"We thought the campus would be empty because we didn't think all freshmen would be losers like you and actually read the campus brochure."

"Sorry to break it to you Michael but it looks like you're in my world now," said Stefan.

"I just want to get out of this car, like I'm going freaking stir crazy in here."

Stefan watched as the traffic started crawling forward but the jeep in front of them didn't move with the progression.

"Why aren't they moving?" said Michael.

"I don't kn—"

Stefan couldn't get his sentence out before Michael started blaring the horn.

"Hey, _relax,"_ said Stefan. "We just started moving, give them time."

"How much more time could they possibly need? Look they're still not moving!" Michael started honking the horn again, creating several short beeps.

"When was the last time you ate?" said Stefan.

"What are you, my mother?"

"You're a dick when you're hungry," said Stefan. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted his weight so he could reach over to the boxes in the back. "There's a back-up stash somewhere back here."

Michael didn't answer and just continued to push down on the horn.

"Who is that jackass who keeps honking at us?" said Caroline. "We have a flat!"

"I don't know." Elena turned around to look out the back window. "The jackass is some blond guy and there's someone else in the passenger's seat but I can't … I can't make him out, he's facing the other way."

"Well tell him to shut up because I am _not_ in the mood, we have been in this car two and a half hours, it's hot, I'm hungry, my self-control can only hold me back for so long."

"Caroline, stop threatening to murder people," said Bonnie lazily. "Let's just call a tow truck."

"We don't have time for a tow truck," said Caroline.

"Well, let's call one anyway." Elena took her cell phone out of her pocket. "No signal." She sighed. "Of course. Gotta love being back on campus. Hold on." She opened the passenger side door and got out of the car, holding the phone in front of her.

"OK we've got Cheetos, Twinkies, jerky." Stefan turned back to the front, a brimming paper bag in his hands. "I see we haven't moved at all," he said, looking through the windshield. The cars in front had moved quite a bit but the jeep was still in the same place. Everyone was honking now. A girl had gotten out of the jeep's passenger side and walked forward, toward the buildings; Stefan squinted. He could only see the back of her head.

"Michael, who's the brunette?"

"What? Stefan, how would I know who she is? Where's the jerky?"

Stefan didn't reply. He moved to open the car door but the minute he popped it open it was slammed shut but a group of guys heading toward the jeep. The anger that seized him was intense and surprising.

"Bro, why are you balling your fists?"

Stefan looked down at his hands. He could hear one of the guys who passed by the car speak. "What's the problem?"

"A flat," a girl responded.

"I have no idea why my hands are in fists right now," said Stefan, looking at Michael. "It's been a weird day."

"You need to eat. Get the jerky."

"OK thank you." Elena hung up the phone and headed back toward the jeep. Everyone had started blaring their horns but the car behind them had stopped honking. She tried to make out the guys in the front seats but still, all she could see was the driver. The passenger had his head down, looking for something. The need to keep walking towards the car was overpowering and completely unbidden. She had to know. She had to know who the passenger was.

"Elena," said Bonnie. "Where are you going?"

Elena stopped and turned to Bonnie, blinking a couple of times, snapping herself back into the moment. There were now five guys surrounding the jeep.

"Um, I called for a tow, they said about fifteen minutes."

"Things are going to turn rabid in fifteen minutes," said one of the guys. "We can try and move the jeep toward that ditch over there so the cars can keep moving."

"Sounds good," said Caroline, walking to the back of the jeep, holding onto the bumper.

"Oh," said another one of the guys. "We got it, I don't really think we need your help."

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Oh I really think you do." She fastened her grip. "OK. One, two, three!"

"Yes! They're moving the car out of the way!"

Stefan looked up to see the five guys and one blonde girl dragging the jeep to the side of the road, toward a ditch. He moved to hand Michael the jerky but the moment there was a bit of space, Michael stepped on the gas.

Wait, the brunette!

Stefan looked out the side window —

"Elena, there's enough room for the jeep to go here, right?"

Elena turned around to look at the ditch. "Yeah, there's plenty of —" The sounds of wheels on gravel.

Wait, she needed to see —

Swiftly, Elena snapped her head back to the road just as the car behind them had sped forward. It happened too quickly, she couldn't see anything, but then what was her hand doing clutching her chest? Why had she taken an intake of breath?

"Elena, what is it?"

"A feeling," she gasped. "Just a feeling."

Stefan exhaled, his eyes shining. He rolled down his window and took deep gulps of air.

"Dude, what's your problem? What is it?" said Michael.

"Nothing," said Stefan. "Just one of my feelings."


	8. Neutral

Stefan sat at his desk with his windows and doors closed though it didn't do much good. He could still hear the drunken chants of, "Chug! Chug! Chug!" as though they were happening right in his dorm room. The incoming freshman were having a party in the quad and Michael had gone out to join them, leaving the room to Stefan.

He couldn't bring himself to go outside.

He still felt tremors of it; of that feeling he had in the car when he first arrived on campus. It had been two days ago but his skin still hummed with the intensity of it, his fingertips tingled, like aftershocks. That feeling was … indescribably euphoric and unbelievably melancholy, like he was drowning and soaring at once. And it was because of that woman. That brunette. He had seen her and was abruptly stricken with such urgent emotion that brought forth the other feelings that sometimes struck him when he read the Letter: a tenderness that crushed him, a loss that devastated him, a contentment that burned him with the desire to always experience such tranquility. It all flooded his entire body while the immediate need to get out of the car and see that woman churned his gut and worked through his muscles. He hadn't been able to get out of the car and he hadn't seen her ever since that day. She preoccupied his thoughts in a way he wasn't accustomed to; she was ever-present on his mind. She wasn't his only thought but she was his only constant one, never leaving but never overpowering, she was simply there. Always. Comforting and torturing him. It was impossible to feel this way about someone he had never met, someone he had never known; no name, no face, but he did. Feel this way. He wanted to know her, know the beauty of her name, the singularity of her face, the intricacies of her life. He had to.

He had to know her.

Stefan took out the Letter again, unfolding the paper, smoothing out the creases and putting it on the desk in front of him. Over the years, preparing for the reading of the Letter had become a ritual. The sixth paragraph automatically drew his eyes toward it. _I know you will._ _I know you will. I know you will_. _I know you will._ He closed his eyes and exhaled, relief and agony in his breath, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. When he opened them again he realized that the ink was fading, undoubtedly because of his inability to part from it at any time. The realization didn't devastate him like he expected it to because That Woman, what she'd made him feel … it didn't replace what The Letter gave him, rather it felt like an extension, an expansion, another piece. Stefan inched forward on his chair so he could read the Letter better. It didn't make sense, how these two feelings connected to each other, the emotional binding … unless …

The door banged open and Stefan flinched violently, turning around to see Michael walking in the room.

"What, what are you doing?" said Stefan.

Michael put his hands up. "Sorry. Are you doing something … private? You need me to leave the room? Need some lotion?"

Stefan picked up a pillow and whipped it at Michael. "Dick," he muttered.

"You're missing the party!"

Stefan sat back down. "I don't feel like going."

"Dude, you're a football star."

"I haven't even played yet! Practice doesn't start till —"

"Who cares, whatever, you're a football star. And you're just sitting in the dorm alone? That goes against all logic of God and man."

"Really?" said Stefan. "Of God and man."

"Yes! Go downstairs, _meet_ people. Meet girls!"

"I don't want to meet girls," said Stefan, turning back to his desk.

"Sure you do," said Michael. "You just want to meet one girl. One brunette girl if I remember right. Is that what you're doing? Sitting up here thinking about some chick you never even met?"

"She's not some chick," said Stefan. His voice was calm but there was a gravity to it that made Michael laugh incredulously.

"You haven't even seen her face!"

"I can't explain it, alright?" said Stefan. "I just … I can't get her out of my head. I have no idea what she looks like, who she is, if she even goes here but she's always there, always …"

"Well then go to the party. She might be there!"

Stefan sighed. "Michael."

"What, how are you ever going to find her if you just sit in your room thinking about finding her? _Socialize,_ man. Get out of neutral."

Stefan swivelled his chair around to look at Michael. "You need me as your wingman, don't you?"

 _"So much."_

Stefan sighed and stood up, folding the paper back carefully and putting it in his back jeans pocket. "OK," he said. "Let's go."

Elena leaned against a tree at the edge of the quad, nursing a beer in her hand as she watched the soon-to-be freshmen fist-pump and make-out and keg-stand. She thought briefly of her one and only keg-stand in senior year, how she relished the bitter expression on Rebekah's face, how she felt an odd sort of pride at how amused and impressed Stefan looked watching her. She started to grin at the memory and then laughter cut into her reverie and she blinked, bringing herself to the present. Caroline and Bonnie were walking over to her, giggling tipsily.

"There you are," said Bonnie. "We've been looking all over for you."

"You found me," said Elena, smiling.

Caroline settled next to her against the tree. "Why aren't you joining the party?"

"They're freshman," said Elena. "What am I going to say to a freshman?"

"I scare them mostly," said Bonnie. "I told them that on the first day of class, Professor Kettleman asks one student a random question from one of the books on the reading list, if they get the answer wrong then the entire class starts with a 50 and has to work their way up."

"I told them Alaric thinks he's an actual witch and will try to perform spells on them and if you don't pretend that it's working you'll fail the class," said Caroline.

Elena shook her head "You two are shameless."

"What's the point of being a senior if you can't terrorize the underclassmen," said Caroline.

Elena laughed.

"You OK?" said Bonnie. "You seem down. Have since we left home."

"I'm fine," said Elena, smiling tightly.

"You're a terrible liar," said Caroline.

"No, really, I am. I'm fine. I'm just …" Elena took a deep breath in, the memory of two days ago flashing before her eyes. The car. The traffic jam. That passenger. She hadn't even seen his face and yet … "There's this guy —"

"Wait," said Caroline, putting up one finger. "You met a guy?"

"Like an actual guy?" said Bonnie. "Like a real live human guy. Or vampire. Or werewolf. Or witch. Or —"

"I got it, I got it," said Elena. "And no I didn't meet him exactly. I never even really saw him. I just … I know that he's out there, here, actually on campus. I saw him two days ago when the car got a flat."

"I thought you said you didn't see him," said Bonnie.

"I didn't. Not all of him. Just the back of his head. Sort of. I don't know, I just I saw whatever I saw and got this _feeling_ like … Stefan has been the only to ever make me feel that way and I felt it with this guy."

"That's great!" said Caroline after a pause. "Maybe when you find him, you can date him."

"Yes, date."

Elena squinted her eyebrows. "Why are you two acting like that? I date. I've been on plenty of dates."

"You show up to dates," said Bonnie. "And then you never actually _date_ the guys. Liam is the only guy you've dated and that lasted three weeks."

"And there was no sex involved," said Caroline. "Elena, it's been three _years_ since you've had sex."

"I've _had_ sex, Caroline," said Elena.

"And from that tone it wasn't very good," said Bonnie.

"Did I tell you that Stefan could actually get me to see colours? Like streaks of colours. I thought I would black out but then I would just see colour, I don't know how he did that but he could, nothing can really live up to that."

"Well that's the problem," said Caroline. "You can't keep comparing every guy to Stefan, Elena. You and him…"

"You two were tethered," said Bonnie. "You two were the real thing, love itself. Nothing is _ever_ going to compare to that. You're never going to find that again."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" said Elena.

"Yeah, Bonnie, is that supposed to make her feel better?" said Caroline through gritted teeth.

"What I'm _saying_ is, you'll never find that again but you can be happy. He wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to just drift through life, to just stay in neutral, he wanted you to _live_ so do it. Be happy."

"It feels like settling."

"Because it is," said Bonnie. "But what's the alternative? You have to live your life, Elena."

"And besides this new guy that you haven't met or seen made you feel something you thought only Stefan could make you feel so, I don't know, let's go find him!" said Caroline. "For all you know he could be at this party."

Elena looked toward the quad and saw a guy in a baseball cap throwing up. "But what if he's a freshman?" said Elena.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it. From my experience, dating a younger guy can be —"

"Bonnie," said Elena sharply. "That is my brother you're talking about, do not finish that sentence."

"I promise I won't if you join the party," said Bonnie, smiling sweetly.

"And if you don't I will tell you all the details that Bonnie would be too afraid to share with you," said Caroline.

"You two are diabolical," said Elena.

"So we've been told," said Caroline and Bonnie together.

"OK fine." Elena took a big gulp of beer. "Let's go."


End file.
